


Orion Ascendant

by Piyo13



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Barduil Big Bang 2015, Jupiter Ascending AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3798418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piyo13/pseuds/Piyo13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Bard wanted was a moment to relax and stargaze. Instead, he found himself quite literally abducted by aliens. Well, one alien. A really hot alien. A really <i>really</i> hot--no, no, Bard, focus. Also what's this about space royalty? </p><p>[A Barduil Jupiter Ascending AU, featuring Space Princess!Bard and Spacewerewolfangelsoldier!Thranduil]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i. In which Bard finds himself rather out of both his comfort zone and his depth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to be able to post this! And I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :D
> 
> Canon was relied upon _very_ loosely throughout this, just know that not everything is accurate to either Tolkien or Jupiter Ascending ^^

Bard Bargeman, contrary to his name, was not actually a bargeman. He was a car mechanic. Not to say that he didn't like boating, but boats were expensive, and he really didn't have that kind of money. He didn't really have _any_ kind of money, actually, if he thought about it. But working in the shop, horrible as the boss was, paid the rent and paid for food, and neither he nor his kids were too unhappy with their lot.

Today was a Thursday, and Bard thanked his lucky stars—which Tilda, his youngest, had happily informed him after a class on astronomy were the stars in the Orion constellation, given that both Bard and Orion apparently 'liked to shoot things'—that the shop was rather slow. It meant getting to close up early, which was always nice. Bard found the process of closing up shop to be soothing, the routine motions letting him run on autopilot.

Bard took one more round of the shop, inspecting the cars that were currently there. Two of them needed parts replaced, which Percy had ordered yesterday but which also hadn't arrived yet. The last had a shattered windshield, but Freddy had said he'd deal with that, and Bard was content to let him deal with the customer's angry calls about speedy service.

Just as he was walking back to the front to flip the 'open' sign to 'closed', a car sputtered up, its parts clanging loudly enough to make Bard cringe. With a sigh, he took his hand off the sign and stepped outside. Four people climbed out of the car, their faces all eerily emotionless.  

"Hello, can I help you?" Bard said, putting on the nicest customer-service face he could muster. The people all exchanged a look, before one of them, a broad-shouldered man several inches taller than Bard, stepped forward and looked at Bard.

"Our car is hurt," he said. Bard nodded.

"Right. Do you think you can get it around back? It'll cost you less if I don't need to tow it there." The stranger continued to stare at Bard. Bard shifted his weight uneasily, unnerved. Every people-reading sense he had was sounding its alarm bells.

"Is Mr. Jackson here?" the man finally said.

Bard raised his eyebrows. "Freddy?" It wasn't often that people specifically requested Freddy. "No, 'fraid he's not. He went home." Knowing Freddy, he wouldn't be showing up any other day through the weekend, either. "But I'm a decent mechanic myself, I'm sure I can fix up any problems you… have?" Bard took a step back as the other three people began to advance, their arms spread menacingly, and no, wait, he _had_ to be imagining things there was no way that their arms were really that long, or their faces so… _alien—_

 

Bard drove home, humming happily along to the radio. "And so I fall in love, just little o little bit, every day with someone new…" It was Sigrid's current favorite song, and Bard had to admit the tune was very catchy. He parallel parked with ease of ten-some years' practice, getting out and locking the car in a single motion.

He climbed the stairs to his apartment, the unlocked door speaking to his kids' presence. "I'm home!" he called, setting his keys, wallet, and cell phone down on the counter, not needing to wait more than a few seconds before he was acknowledged.

"Da!" Tilda said, running out into the main living room with her arms outstretched for a hug. Bard picked her up and twirled her around as she giggled.

"Hello, princess. How was your day?"

"We learned more about stars today!"

"Oh, really? What did you learn?" Bard asked, setting Tilda back down to press a kiss to Sigrid's forehead as she also walked up.

"Stars are made from hydrogen and helium and all the hydrogen burns up really bright and that's why we can see stars," Tilda said seriously.

"Really now? That's interesting."

"Yeah! And you need to sign a form for a fieldtrip next week!"

"Oh? Where are you going?"

"We're gonna look at _stars!_ "

The planetarium, then. Bard smiled as he nodded. "Alright, why don't you go get me the form?" Tilda nodded happily, racing back to her room. "And you, Sigrid? Your day all right?" Sigrid shrugged.

"Mr. Friedman assigned us two essays for over the weekend," she grumbled.

"What about?" Bard asked, moving into the kitchen and opening one of the cupboards, pulling out a plastic cup before going in search for the water pitcher.

"He wants us to research themes related to the book we're reading… it's so _boring_."

Bard frowned. "Which book was this, again?"

" _The Crucible."_

"Ah," Bard said, though truthfully he didn't have much of an idea. He'd only spent one year in an American high school, his parents having decided to emigrate to Chicago when he was seventeen. Despite living in America since then, his Welsh accent hadn't quite faded, a fact for which his kids occasionally made fun of him for.

"There's like, these girls who aren't really witches but everyone thinks they are, and the nanny who does voodoo, and a lot of prissy holier-than-thou old men," Sigrid elaborated. Bard raised his eyebrows.

"Right then. Research the voodoo, that'll be interesting at least, no?"

Sigrid shrugged again. "I guess…" she said, though she sounded unconvinced. Bard took a drink of water, just as Bain wandered into the kitchen.

"Here you go!" Tilda said, barreling past Bain and shoving paper at Bard. Bard took it, glancing over to his son as he set the paper down on the counter.

"Hi, Da," Bain said, looking excited.

"What's up?" Bard said, giving the permission slip no more than a cursory glance before signing it and handing it back to Tilda, who took it and left. "Tilda, don't forget to feed the fish!" he called out after her, before turning back to Bain, who was practically bouncing.

"We're starting a new unit on acids and bases in chemistry and Ms. Arwen totally blew up mentos and a coke bottle in class!"

"Ah. Well that's exciting."

"Yeah! And she said later this week we'll get to use _hydrochloric acid!_ "

To be quite frank, that was more alarming to Bard than exciting, and he smiled wanly at Bain. "And remember how at the beginning of the semester you said you were going to hate chemistry…" he said instead.

Bain blushed. "No I didn't…"

"You totally did Bain, you just think Ms. Arwen's hot," Sigrid said, leaning against the counter.

"Oh?" Bard said, looking at Bain with a smile. Bain looked mortified.

"Do _not!_ " he said, hands waving choppily. "Ugh!" He turned and stomped back off to his room. Bard raised an eyebrow at Sigrid, who shrugged, smirking.

"It's _true_. Everyone knows it. I mean she's also a good teacher but, you know."

"Of course." Bard set his cup down on the counter. "Let me go get washed up, then I'll get started on dinner. You got anything particular in mind?"

"Um… what about that soup you made the other day?"

"Sounds like a plan."

 

After dinner and clean-up and the requisite story-time on part of Tilda, Bard made sure everyone was tucked in—or, at least, in their rooms, who knew how long Sigrid and Bain would still be up—and then left his apartment. He took the stairs up the remaining two floors, coming out onto the roof of the building. Tucked in the corner behind the AC unit was a folded up beach chair. Bard pulled it out and opened it, setting it down a foot or so away from the low wall that circled the edge of the roof.

He sat down, taking in the lights of the city, and then lay down fully, looking up at the stars. Light pollution made them hard to see, but a few of the brighter stars still shone through. Bard placed his hands behind his head, letting himself relax into the night.

Stargazing had always calmed him down; he'd lived in a pretty small town in Wales, where the stars shone brilliantly whenever there weren't clouds. Moving to Chicago, he'd been shocked and saddened that so few of his stars were still visible. But he'd still continued to watch them, and once he'd married, so had Adelaide. The stars had also helped him heal after her death, kept him grounded through the worst of it and eventually helped him move on. Even now, Bard made it a habit to come up to the rooftop whenever the weather was acceptable.

Something about the stars simply… made him feel at home.

Bard breathed in deeply, ignoring the ever-present smell of smog. The air had a touch of coolness to it, the first signs that summer was beginning to fade away. He traced Orion's Belt, smiling as he remembered Tilda's proclamation from the other day. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, opening them again just in time to see a shooting star. He smiled. It wasn't often that shooting stars shone bright enough for him to see them in the city.

A few seconds passed, and Bard frowned. Shooting stars… didn't change direction, did they? And they didn't have flashing lights either… Bard squinted. Maybe a helicopter? But no, helicopters weren't that weird flat diamond shape… Bard sat up, rubbing his eyes. He hadn't had anything to drink at dinner, there was no reason for him to be hallucinating UFOs.

Bard yelped and half-scrambled, half-fell off his beach chair as a flash of light whizzed past his arm, close enough for him to feel the air waves of its passing against his arm before it crashed into the bricks behind him. Bard stared at the large circle of pulverized, indented wall.

"Oh, fuck," he said, tripping over his feet in his haste to get up, arm tingling, because the UFO—it was clearly a UFO, there weren't any other possible explanations, unless Bard was dreaming, but no he definitely had only five fingers on both hands and he could definitely _count_ all five fingers on both hands and _fuck did they just fire whatever-the-fucks at him again!?_ —was getting closer, maneuvering itself in midair to face Bard. Bard tried to move, but a beam of light held him frozen in place, before beginning to drag him closer to the hovering probably-a-spaceship-if-he-thought-too-long-about-it. 

And honestly that was very interesting wing construction, individual pieces comprising the whole, were they held together by magnets? But then how were they adjusting their height and angle individually like that? He'd be interested in knowing the mechanics behind that someda— _no, shit, Bard, get a grip you're being targeted by_ aliens _, now is_ not _the time—_

Just as he noticed two suspiciously gun-like things on the hull lighting up (rather alarmingly, he might add), two light flashes rammed into the spaceship, rocking it sideways and breaking the spotlight that had been dragging Bard. The spaceship veered away, pursued by more flashes of light.

Bard was about to collapse to the ground and talk himself into thinking the entire debacle was just a very weird dream when a _second_ spaceship showed up, coasting to a glide right beside Bard's sadly-beaten-down-looking beach chair.

Then a door flipped open on the side of the new spaceship, revealing what was probably an alien, but also an incredibly _beautiful_ alien, truth be told. Bard gaped. The alien leaned forward, making a noise that sounded like a growl and motioning at Bard.

"Hurry, get in, we don't have much time!" The alien's voice was deep and smooth, and it took Bard a moment to process that he was being talked at.

"Er, wait, what?"

"I said, _get in!_ "

Bard blinked, and took a step towards the spaceship, before stopping and shaking his head. "Uh-uh, nope, I know better than to get into cars—er, spaceships?—with strangers, no matter how hot they are, I'm not _that_ stupid, thank you very much."

Now it was the alien's turn to gape at Bard. "I—what? No, you know what, nevermind, just _get in the damn cruiser we don't have all night._ "

Bard shook his head stubbornly, having finally found _something_ rational to latch onto. "Stranger danger," he said. The alien stared, then grit his teeth (were those _fangs?_ ) and growled loudly.

"Alright. Fine! I'm Thranduil Oropherion, ex-Legionnaire and lycanthan, now we're not— _duck!_ " Bard, after a split second of deliberation, dropped down to the ground, just as Thrandu-somethingoranother did something with the controls of his ship that rotated it midair and sent beams of light right through where Bard's head had been.  Bard turned, following the path of the light beams, and saw the spaceship from earlier, now sporting two smoking indentations on its front.

Thrandu-something fired again, and the spaceship's wings flared out. This seemed to intimidate the other aliens, because they flipped their ship and disappeared through the buildings. Thrandy-something coasted sideways again, the door still open.

"Now we're not strangers anymore, _please_ get in the cruiser we _really_ don't have time for this."

"But—"

"Alright, listen to me," Thrandy-something said, leveling a glare at Bard, "Get in the spaceship, because _they_ —" he emphasized by viciously pointing in the direction of the just-fled spaceship "—don't know about your children yet but if we linger here any longer they'll figure out the similarities in DNA structure and that will _not_ end well."

Bard felt his blood chill from Thrandy's words far more than from his glare. "My kids?" he said, working the words out around a cold knot of fear. He darted his gaze to the door that led back down into the apartment. Thrandy noticed, and snapped his fingers.

"Focus. Your children will be fine, but only if we get you out of here _right now._ " Bard hesitated a moment longer, but Thrandy twitched. "Hurry, I can see them on my radar again, _hurry!"_

Bard whimpered— _really, all I wanted was to see the stars_ —but ran forward and awkwardly clambered into the spaceship. The door snapped shut the second he was inside, and the acceleration of the spaceship threw him against the back of the seat.

"Seatbelt on your left, please fasten it," Thrandy said. Bard twisted around in search for the seatbelt, trying to ignore the fact that Thrandy's voice was even silkier up close. Just like his hair… right, seatbelt, right. Bard found it, and took a long second to figure out how it was supposed to be worn. Once he clicked in, Thrandy flashed Bard a (frankly, rather bloodthirsty) grin.

"Now we can get the fun started," he said, the edge of a rumble in his voice.

That was the last thing Bard heard before his entire world went corkscrew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Bard references is Hozier's 'Someone New', which I use as my writing music for approximately the first half of the fic ^^;;;


	2. ii. in which Bard does not like spaceships, or bees

Bard didn't really know how to break it to Thrandy that he was getting seriously carsick. Er, spaceshipsick. As in, for the last eight minutes _at least_ , Thrandy had essentially taken Bard for a very roller-coaster-esque tour of Chicago's downtown, with emphasis made on the particular luster of darkened windows and the twist-drop-spin capabilities of his ship.

Speaking of which. Bard clenched his eyes tightly and tried to focus on his breathing as best he could while the spaceship barrel-rolled in midair, narrowly avoiding (if Thrandy's exhilarated whoops were to be trusted) certain death at the hands of… whatever other aliens were out there. Bard consoled himself with the thought that, whatever _any_ of them wanted, at least they weren't near his kids.

Suddenly, Bard found himself thrown forward against the dashboard, the straps of his seatbelt only just catching him. Then the ship dropped like a stone, and Bard's stomach rolled threateningly. After a forceful swallow, he turned to Thrandy, his words coming out more 'pitiful groan' than he'd intended.

"Uuuugh, hey, Mr. Alien Guy?"

"What?!" Thrandy snapped, his eyes never leaving the enemy's ship as he fired continuously. "I'm a little busy trying to hold off a fleet of keepers here, _in case you haven't noticed_."

"Right, right, and I'll let you get back to that right away, I was just wondering if you've got a barf bag or something."

"Oh, why yes, of course, if you open the paneling there—no, no, click that button there, yes,  that one—now look inside, should be on the right, next to the napkins."

"Thank you." The spaceship slowed just a little as Bard grabbed one of the bags, hurriedly unfolding it and pulling it open. Out of the corner of his eye, Bard saw Thrandy flash him a concerned glance.

"And make sure it stays _in the bag_ , do you understand me—ew," Thrandy said.

"You're telling me," Bard muttered, barf bag pressed firmly over his mouth, but his stomach considerably lighter. _So much for that soup…_

 

It took them another three minutes and two more barf bags until the skies were clear of aliens. Thrandy coasted the spaceship over to the top of what was probably the only intact building left in all of Chicago—Bard didn't even want to _think_ about the costs of repair, there were holes and craters in and on _everything_ —and then pressed a button that caused the ship to lower itself down until it was touching the ground. Bard's door opened, and he scrambled to unbuckle his seatbelt, his chest already feeling lighter without its weight. He was _so_ going to be bruised come tomorrow…

Bard exited the spaceship on shaky legs, walking over to some container or another and sinking down with his back against it. Thrandy was will messing around in his ship, and after a few minutes of staring—Bard was just curious as to what he was doing, though the spectacular ass _was_ a benefit—he realized that Thrandy was getting rid of the barf bags.

"Sorry," Bard called out. He received a grunt in return.  Bard finally tore his eyes away from Thrandy, looking beyond him at what parts of Chicago's skyline he could still see from his vantage point in the middle of said skyline.

What he could see was not promising. Clouds of dust rose into the air, streetlights reflecting up onto them even as they floated with the wind. Several small fires seemed to be burning at various points, and the gaping holes in most of the buildings visible were not reassuring. Bard stared, eyes wide. He jumped when Thrandy cleared his throat, now standing only a few feet away from him.

"Please, remain calm…" Thrandy said, hands lifted in a placating gesture.

Bard laughed. "'Stay calm.' Yeah, right, _okay_ , half the city's been _destroyed_ , aliens with _spaceships_ are a thing, and you expect me to _stay bloody calm?!_ " Thrandy flinched slightly. Bard tried to rein himself in, but now that he'd verbalized his situation, it was getting harder to maintain anything even remotely resembling a calm demeanor.

"Okay, well, the Guide said that some people would accept it faster than others, and then… and then we had to… oh, by the Valar, I knew I should have paid better attention," Thrandy said, pacing a few nervous steps and running a hand through his hair, exposing pointed ears.

Now that Bard was neither scared for his life nor throwing up, he was also able to notice the delicately engraved leather that comprised the vest-like top that Thrandy wore. It looked… futuristic, for a lack of better word, but the small electric blue highlights were actually in the shape of leaves and vines. On his right arm a complex pattern was inked onto his skin, looking eerily like a silver computer chip. And…wait—

"Is your tattoo _glowing_?"

Thrandy looked at Bard with furrowed eyebrows that managed to be both confused and annoyed at the same time. "My…? I don't have—oh," he said once Bard pointed at his arm. "No, it's not a tattoo, it's an extra-sensory device. It, mm, it allows me to feel what my ship is feeling."

"Oh," Bard said, staring at it. "Wait, you mean like, your ship's _alive?_ "

"No, no, I just mean… for example, I can feel if the phasers are getting low on energy, and if I need to recharge them, or if something breaks, or I need to refuel, or exactly how much G-force can be exerted… things like that. The ESD routes information to my sensory neurons, which my brain then interprets as sensation…"

Bard was pretty sure his eyes had glazed over. "Okay, sure," he said. There was a moment of awkward silence between the two. Then Bard pushed himself up to standing. "Right. Now that the whatevers are gone, I want to go back home." Bard paced over to the edge of the building, peering down over the rail. They were quite a ways up.

Thrandy hadn't moved, still seeming at a loss. "Bard—"

"No, first off, you shouldn't even know my name, second off, either you take me back _right now_ or I swear to God I will hijack your spaceship, don't think I won't," Bard threatened, honestly too far past the point of caring to reflect on what he sounded like. _Threatening an alien, way to go._

"You're going to hijack my ship? The ship that I have an inbuilt neurosensory connection to?" Thrandy asked, and Bard thought he caught the edges of a smile on Thrandy's lips. Which Bard didn't think was cute at all. Because he was busy _threatening_ Thrandy, not admiring his good looks. Exactly.

"Yes!" Bard said, striding over to the ship and trying to open the door. He failed miserably, mostly because there was nothing even remotely resembling a door _handle_ on the actual door, and also partially because he wasn't entirely sure he knew where the door was anymore, given how well and seamlessly it blended into the rest of the ship. He settled for thumping his hand against the side a few times. "Ugh."

"Be nice to _Aras_ ," Thrandy said, and it took Bard a second to realize that the alien was referring to his spaceship.

"Aras? Does that mean anything?"

Thrandy looked away for a second before speaking. "It means 'deer'."

Bard snorted, turning his laugh into a cough. "You named your _spaceship_ 'deer'?"

Thrandy shifted his fit and straightened his shoulders, going into what Bard could only classify as a defensive stance. "You wouldn't understand," he muttered. Bard nodded along for a couple of seconds.

"No, you know what? You're absolutely right I _don't_ understand, so if you'll please just take me back to my kids—"

"You _really_ don't get it, do you? You can't go back. The keepers have a genetic lock on you. The only way to keep yourself safe at this point is to come with me—"

"Well that's _bloody convenient._ How do I know you're not lying to me to get me to go with you? And even if that _is_ true, that's why we need to get my kids! You can't expect me to just leave where these… these keeps or whatever can just _find_ them! Without protection or anything, nope, not going to happen! Take me _back—_ "

"Just." Thrandy paused, taking a deep breath. Bard did absolutely not focus on the way Thrandy's biceps flexed ever-so-slightly as he clenched a fist. "Just please trust me on this?"

Bard looked into Thrandy's eyes, noting how blue they were, and the tiniest of little creases at the corners, and the way he was definitely wearing a thin stripe of dark grey eyeliner. And sincerity. Just as Bard was about to give Thrandy the reluctant okay, Thrandy stiffened. He broke eye contact, turning his nose into the air and sniffing.

Bard frowned. "What are you, a dog?"

"Lycanthan, actually, but now is neither the time nor the place. One of my sensors has been tripped, we have to go. Thrandy took a step towards his ship, turning back to give Bard a piercing look. "Are you with me or not?"

Bard hesitated a second. "I'm with you," he said, having resolved himself.

"Good, now please get into the cruiser," Thrandy said, sliding smoothly into the driver's seat, long legs and all. Bard ran around to the other side, finding the door magically open (and slightly peeved about that fact), and sitting down and buckling his seatbelt tenderly back on.

"Ready," Bard said, his stomach already knotting queasily.

"Remember, it stays _in the bag_." Then the ship shuddered and made a humming noise, and they were off.

 

Twenty minutes later, Bard was sitting shotgun and Thrandy was driving a car that they had… _rented_ from a nearby used car dealer. The dealer hadn't really been in on the transaction, but Bard figured the stack of bills, courtesy Thrandy, under a brick where the car used to be was a fair enough trade. Unless someone else took the money first…

Well, too late for that now. The inside of the rental smelled faintly of cigarettes, and Thrandy kept wrinkling his nose.

"What's going to be done about Chicago?" Bard asked as they turned out of the dealership and onto the road.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you destroyed it. You can't just leave it like that."

Thrandy sighed. "Please look behind you," he said. Bard narrowed his eyes, but did as requested, twisting around in his seat to look out the rear windshield.

"Oh," he said softly. That was all he really _could_ say. Even as he watched, the buildings built themselves back up, and fires were being extinguished and replaced with solid building again. Bard turned back around, sitting properly. "How?"

Thrandy shrugged. "Accidents happen sometimes. There's always a cleanup crew ready and waiting."

"Oh," Bard said, looking back again. The skyline was almost good as new. "Don't people notice?"

"No. We wipe their memories. That happened to you earlier, did it not? Some keepers came to your auto shop? You remember nothing?"

Bard frowned, searching his memory.   He remembered… four people showing up, telling him their car was hurt, and then… nothing.

"And anyone who can escape the amnesia is never believed, anyways," Thrandy added on with finality. Bard didn't reply, staring out the window instead.

"You know," Bard said after a few minutes of awkward silence, having decided it was time to distract himself from the entire concept of alien-induced amnesia and reconstruction, "you're lucky I know how to hotwire a car."

"Shut up."

"Aren't spaceships supposed to never run out of gas or something?"

" _Shut up_."

"Like what, infinite energy sources haven't been invented yet? I thought that was a prerequisite for space travel."

"I said shut _up_ do you not understand me!?"

"Whatever, I'm just saying. At least you managed to knock the whatevers out of the sky first. And hide _Aras_. Weren't you supposed to _know_ that you were low on gas? And you're sure no one will find it before you can pick it up again?"

"I did know, but I... forgot that Terra's atmosphere burns fuel faster than what I'm used to. And I'm certain; anyone who goes near that place will be quite literally burnt to a crisp before they can so much as see _Aras_."

"Ah. Pleasant." Bard fiddled with the radio for a second, setting it on a random station that was playing some sort of oldies music. "Also, where do aliens even _get_ Earth money?"

"We 'aliens' own the Earth, of course we have Earth money."

Bard blinked slowly, then looked at Thrandy, who didn't seem to find anything wrong with his previous statement. "Um, excuse me, _what?_ "

"Yes," Thrandy said, still, apparently, intent on _not caring_ that he'd just told Bard that entire planets could, seemingly, be _owned_ , and by aliens at that. "Now, please shut up, I'm trying to drive," he said, smoothly merging the borrowed car onto I-80 West.

Bard stared out the window. _Okay_ , he thought. _Aliens own the Earth and can navigate the American interstate system. Why not._ At some point, Thrandy left the interstate, and they began bumbling along on a dirt road that ran next to the highway for a bit before arching elsewhere. Bard spent the next few hours looking out at the passing fields of corn, still full and leafy and increasingly green as the sun began to rise behind them. Bard furrowed his brows as he finally processed that fact.

He looked at the dashboard clock. 5:45.

"Hey," he said. "How long are we going to be at this super-secret place of yours?"

"It's not a secret, it's a farm, and as long as we have to be."

"Why the hell does an alien have—you know what, nevermind. Does the farm have a phone I could use? Sigrid's going to be waking up soon, she needs to know where I am…" Looking outside again, Bard decided that he, too, would rather like to know where he was, exactly.

Thrandy blanked for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm not sure. We can check once we get there."

"Ugh, I didn't bring my cell up onto the roof with me… Wait, do _you_ have a cell phone? Aliens have phones, right?"

"I… do, but Earth isn't indexed on my plan."

"…not indexed on your plan…?"

Thrandy nodded sheepishly. "I don't usually come out to this quadrant, so I only have the Delta-Vega-IV plan…"

"You're kidding me."

"Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure Earth even _is_ indexable on Saturnalia phones, considering it's—" Thrandy glanced quickly at Bard before turning back to the road. "Considering the current level of technology."

"I'll have you know I can get 3G almost anywhere in Chicago, and for only thirty dollars a month."

"Fascinating," Thrandy replied, in the exact tone that people always used when they wished to indicate that whatever they were reacting to was the exact opposite of fascinating.

Bard looked out the window again, and they drove on in silence. Five minutes later, Thranduil veered onto another side road, practically throwing Bard into him, saved from complete embarrassment only by the seat belt.

"What the hell was that?" Bard asked, pulling himself back into an upright position and adjusting his shirt, which had ridden up. When no answer was forthcoming, Bard glanced over at Thrandy, who quickly looked away. Bard frowned when he noticed Thrandy's knuckles were clenched white on the steering wheel.

"That was a turn," Thrandy said. Any confusion Bard had had was replaced by annoyance.

"Really? Would _not_ have noticed that, thank you _so much_ for the clarification."

Thrandy raised a single bushy eyebrow at him. "You asked what it was."

"I _meant_ why so abruptly and do you not know how to use the brakes, _actually_ , but if you're going to—" Bard was cut off as Thrandy abruptly demonstrated that he did, in fact, know how to use the brakes. Unfortunately, that also meant taking them from seventy-five miles per hour to five in the space of as many seconds. Bard groaned. He was definitely going to have human-seatbelt-shaped bruises on top of his alien-spaceship-seatbelt-shaped ones…

"We're here," Thrandy said, faux-brightly. Then he pulled to a complete stop, turning off the car with a flick. Bard unbuckled (and silently thanked) his seatbelt, and stepped out of the car.

They were on a farm. Cornfields in three directions, a large house and a nearby barn in the fourth. In front of the house, there were several patches of flowers, as well as what looked like an apple tree. The air was already warm, even this early, and smelled of hay and fresh dirt. Bard wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from an alien's farm—human organ collection, possibly? Anal probes?—but this wasn't it.

"Tauriel!" Thrandy shouted, walking around the car to the side with the house, the side Bard was standing on. "I brought the human!" A few seconds passed, then the screen door of the house flew open. Two people emerged, one who looked like a miniature version of Thrandy, the other with bright ginger hair.

"Thranduil, you're back!" the red-head exclaimed. _Ah, so that's his actual name…_ "Legolas came to visit," she added.

"Ada," the mini-Thranduil said, touching his hand to his heart and extending it out towards Thranduil.

"Legolas," Thranduil said warmly, smiling fondly and returning the gesture. Then the smile slid off his face, and Thranduil gestured towards Bard, who found himself scrutinized by the two new people—aliens? Whatever. "This is Bard Bargeman."

"Hello, Bard," the red-head said cheerfully, extending a hand. Bard took it reflexively, and she shook it firmly. "My name is Tauriel."

"Hello, Tauriel," he returned, trying to pronounce it the same way she had and failing miserably. Nonetheless, she smiled kindly.

"And I'm Legolas," said mini-Thranduil. He didn't offer his hand.

"Tauriel keeps the farm," Thranduil said to Bard, "and Legolas is my son." Bard's eyes widened, and he looked between Thranduil and Legolas.

"You have a son?!"

Thranduil looked at Bard, perplexed. "Yes. He is standing right in front of you." Tauriel did her best to hide a snicker, but Bard still caught it.

 "Yes, yes, I can see that, I just… do aliens even marry?" Bard asked, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth afterwards. That was _not_ what he'd meant to say, and now it probably sounded like—

"We do," Thranduil said softly. Bard noticed that a solemn mood had come over the three. He was just about to apologize when Legolas spoke up, seemingly taking pity on Bard.

"My mother died a few years after I was born," he said.

"Oh," Bard said, feeling an ache in his chest. He turned to Thranduil. "I'm sorry," he said, hoping his words carried an undertone of 'I understand' with them. Thranduil looked at him for a moment, then his eyes widened marginally, and he tilted his head in acknowledgement. Then he looked to Tauriel, and began speaking… not English, whatever it was.

The mood lightened considerably with that conversation, Legolas joining in at some point until all three of them were talking rapid-fire at each other. Bard wasn't sure if they were arguing or not; the way their voices constantly overlapped seemed to indicate that, but on the other hand none of them raised their voice and their lilting tones didn't _sound_ angry… after a couple of seconds of not understand anything, Bard gave up and wandered off, looking at the flowerbeds in front of the house.

They were wild, different species of flower all thrown in together haphazardly, and yet it still looked pretty. Bard thought Tilda would like it. Thinking of her made Bard realize that he _still_ hadn't called his kids, and he turned to ask one of the aliens for a phone when he caught a flash of motion out of the corner of his eye.

Slowly, Bard turned to look, finding himself staring directly at the fattest honeybee he'd ever seen.

Bard gulped.

Soon the bee was joined by a few more, and a buzzing behind Bard's head confirmed that the bees were there as well. Bard felt a cold shiver run up his spine as he turned back to the trio, who were still talking.

"Ah, excuse me? I hate to interrupt your surely highly important conversation but what the fuck are the bees doing, exactly?"

Tauriel turned to look at the bees, and her mouth fell open. Thranduil inhaled sharply, and Legolas let out a low whistle before shooting a glance at his father.

"Your Majesty," Thranduil said stiffly, getting down on one knee and bowing his head to Bard. His son and Tauriel followed suit.

Momentarily distracted from the bees, Bard frowned at the trio. "What?"

"The bees are genetically modified to be able to detect royal blood," Tauriel said, lifting her head and looking at Bard with more respect than before.  Then her eyes widened and she looked to Thranduil, speaking rapidly in that other language. Thranduil replied defensively, lifting his hands up.

Bard looked on, confused, but just then a bee buzzed right next to Bard's ear, and he whimpered. "Look, that's great and all, but can you guys just make them _stop?_ I'm kind of seriously allergic to bees."

The three aliens all stared at him with matching expressions of disbelief.

"What?" Bard asked, a touch indignantly. It wasn't _his_ fault that he was allergic to bees, for Chrissakes.

Thranduil opened and close his mouth a few times, then seemed to find it in himself to speak. "To quote your own words, you're fucking kidding me."

"I never said fucking, and no, I'm pretty serious here, I got stung once when I was a kid, spent eleven hours in the ER. Not exactly an experience I want to repea—wuaaaaagh it's come closerrrr—" Bard ducked around the offending bee, darting quickly up the porch steps and slamming the screen door shut. He peered out at the three stunned-looking aliens. Legolas was still kneeling.

"Your Majesty," Thranduil began.

"Nope," Bard said, shaking his head emphatically. "I'm staying inside. Away from the ginourmous swarm of insects that could kill me, please and thank you very much. And call me Bard."

"Well then, I guess we're having this meeting indoors," Tauriel said, walking up the steps. Legolas followed her, Thranduil coming in a reluctant last. Bard stepped aside as they entered the house.

"Are you hungry?" Legolas asked. Bard was about to reply no, but then he realized that he hadn't eaten since dinner last night, not to mention throwing up, and that yes, he was a little hungry.

"A bit," he said. Legolas nodded, then peered at Bard for a second.

"We also have coffee, if you'd like," Legolas added.

"Please," Bard all but groaned. A hand on his shoulder made him start, but it was just Tauriel, who smiled kindly at him again.

"Legolas will get you food," she said, and Legolas nodded at her before walking out. "In the meantime, why don't you come with me? I'm sure you have a few questions at this point."

"A few..." Bard said, snorting. "You could say that." Tauriel led him into a side room that looked like it was an office, with shelves upon shelves of books and a large desk in the middle. There were several chairs strewn about, and Tauriel motioned Bard to sit down.

"What's your first question, then?" she asked.

"What are you? And Thranduil, and Legolas? And do you have a phone?"

Tauriel raised an eyebrow at his last question, but shook her head. "Sorry, no phones. We didn't ever get one for this place… not many need to contact us. As for the rest of your questions…" Tauriel hummed, her eyes going vacant as she thought, while Bard shifted antsily, wondering how rude it would be to interrupt her and demand to be brought back to his children. Tauriel had just drawn breath to reply when Thranduil entered the room.

"By the way, Tauriel, while I was tracking him," Thranduil said, nodding at Bard, "I ran into a couple of bounty hunters, I picked up a scrape or two. Heal them for me?" Tauriel nodded, disappearing into a different room, and Thranduil began to unlatch the fastenings on his vest. By the time Bard's brain caught up to what the next logical movement was going to be, it was too late.

..

Thranduil's vest was off, and Bard couldn't take his eyes away. Thranduil was slim and perfectly toned, and the few rays of morning sunlight that filtered in through the window gave him an ethereal glow. His hair cascaded over his shoulders, flaxen and silky. Bard consciously checked to make sure his mouth was still closed.

"Alright, where is it?" Tauriel said, holding a small can that looked suspiciously like hairspray in one hand.

Thranduil turned his back to her, scooping his hair off to the side, and Bard caught a glimpse of a deep, bloody scratch across one shoulder. Bard inhaled sharply, but Tauriel didn't seem bothered. She tutted instead.

"I've told you not to forget the shielding on your back. The minute you stop your spinning you become vulnerable there." She shook the can in her hand violently, and began spraying it on.

"It was a lucky shot," Thranduil said. "It ricocheted."

"Sure," was all Tauriel replied. Bard gaped (mouth definitely open, this time) as he watched the skin on Thranduil's back knit itself back together, the wound closing completely and scarlessly in a matter of seconds.  

"I'll check the weapons," Thranduil said once he'd rolled his shoulders experimentally. He stalked out of the room. Bard hadn't realize he'd leaned forward to watch him go until Tauriel snorted softly.

"Yes, he's pretty," she said. Bard blushed deeply.

"I wasn't—" Bard stopped talking when Tauriel merely raised her eyebrows at him, smirking. "…maybe I was, a little," he conceded, and Tauriel laughed, shaking her head.

"In any case, you wanted to know what he is?" Bard nodded, and Tauriel continued. "Thranduil is a lycanthan. They were created as a species inside labs in the Betelgeuse system, devised to be some of the finest warriors in space. Think of them as a human-wolf hybrid, that's essentially what they are. They have the general appearance of humans—save for the pointed ears, which I'm sure you noticed –" Bard blushed harder, not wanting to admit that yes, he had, "but the stamina and sensory capabilities of wolves. Most of them also have a range of cybernetic implants as well, to strengthen their skeleton or sharpen other senses, things like that.

"However, they also inherited the social system of wolves—lycanthans need to form packs, and they need to form them deeply. This makes lycanthans perfect for work in the Legion, because they bond closely with their unit and are extremely able to communicate and work cohesively without needing to take too much time."

"What's the Legion? Thranduil said he was an ex-Legionnaire, I think, when he introduced himself?"

"He actually introduced himself as that?"

"Well… I may or may not have refused to get into his spaceship because we were still strangers…"

Tauriel laughed. "You have quite a way about you, Bard." She shook her head lightly. "But… well, to explain the Legion, I suppose I need to go back into galactic history… hm." Tauriel thought for a few seconds, and Bard used the time to glance at the books in the room, dismayed to find that none of them were in English, or even in the Latin alphabet.

Tauriel cleared her throat. "Right, so I guess the fastest way to explain it is… well, humans originated in their current form approximately five billion years ago, in the Orion star system. About four and a half billion years ago, stable warp was achieved, and humans became the dominant species of the galaxy. They spread out to other galaxies, creating trade agreements with those that already had established warp-capable species and colonizing those that didn't.

"In any case, this continued for a bit, and eventually a single family emerged as hegemonic. At first it was just because of their empire of trade, but nowadays they're royalty, as well as still holding their trading routes and goods. This family is called the Abrasax, and that's who you're related to, but I'll get to that later. Anyways, Abrasax the family and Abrasax the industry continued to, mm, colonize planets through various galaxies, eventually coming to the Milky Way, as you call it, about sixty-five million years ago. After finding Terra and determining it viable for life, the pre-existent dominant species, giant reptilians, were wiped out, and humans were genetically blended with the native apezoid population a few million years later, when conditions were safer."

"Wait wait—did you just insinuate that this… Abrasax family wiped out the _dinosaurs_?" Bard sputtered, sincerely hoping Tauriel was kidding. Instead, she nodded.

"Yes, they did. I know you terrans believe it was an asteroid of some sort, and you're not exactly wrong—Abrasax did send down a small manufactured comet, containing levels of iridium toxic to most of the larger reptilian life forms." She shrugged. "Anyways, regarding the Legion—with such a huge trading empire, Abrasax had to find a way to defend their trade routes from rogue people and other species who would like to see them fall. So the Legion was founded, as a military organization owned by the Abrasax line. They're consistently the most efficient and most advanced military organization in the universe, actually," she said with a hint of pride.

"Are you part of the Legion?"

Tauriel smiled sadly. "I was, but… well, I made a stupid mistake, and Thranduil, as my superior officer, took the blame for me. We were both exiled, and Legolas followed his father."

"Oh," Bard said. The two were silent for a moment, Bard trying to gather his thoughts and Tauriel respecting that. "Why did Abrasax want to colonize Earth? Or… anywhere, I guess. Does Earth have some goods they need or something? Why don't we know about aliens' existence, then? And how am I related to this whole mess? _Why_ am I even _in_ this whole mess?" Tauriel suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"Well—" she began, but didn't get very far, because Thranduil shouted something from across the house that had Tauriel standing with two daggers as long as her forearms in hand, though where she'd gotten them from, Bard had no idea.

"What—"

"Bard," she said, cutting across him. "Get down—"

Then the wall exploded, revealing _another_ spaceship with phasers pointed directly at him, and suddenly Bard was on the ground, pinned down underneath Tauriel, who was using herself as a shield, and then the spaceship outside was moving and dust was filtering through the air and suddenly Thranduil was coasting by on flying roller skates and he had stupidly hot _fangs_ and _abs_ and was _growling_ and _still_ half-naked—

—and then Bard was being pulled up to his feet by Tauriel and pushed over to Legolas, who grabbed his hand began leading him away.

"Your Majesty! You need to get to our hangar—the barn—and wait for us there, okay? Get into the silver spaceship and then close the door behind you!" Legolas stared directly at Bard, holding Bard with one hand and a sleek machine-gun-looking thing in the other. "Do you understand?!"

"I—yes—"

"Then go!" Legolas said, turning Bard and pushing him towards the barn. Bard stumbled forward a few steps, glancing behind him just as Legolas shot something (some _one?_ ) square in the chest. Legolas caught him looking and shooed him on. "Go! I'll cover for you and catch up later just get into the—" Legolas broke off with a snarl, baring his teeth viciously at the alien that had managed to get closer to him. He pulled knives out of hitherto hidden sheaths on his back, and Bard whimpered.

He turned and ran as fast as he could in the direction of the barn slash hangar, half-tripping over a hillock of grass when a flicker of motion startled him from the corner of his eye. Not bothering to stop, Bard continued running, hoping it was just a bee and thinking longingly to his days as a high school soccer player and the athleticism he had once had.

A few more bees scattered out of his way as he continued to run, and Bard finally reached the door of the barn—just as he was pulling it open, though, he felt a sting on his arm.

Horrified—there _definitely_ weren't hospitals in the area, and _God forbid aliens have phones_ —Bard looked down. His vision got a bit woozy once he spotted the dart— _thank God not a bee, just a dart_ —wait…

…dart?

* * *

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Thranduil saw the blur of a spaceship taking off. He growled loudly, firing off the last two pulses from his phaser and then pulling out his silver-steel knives, using them to quickly finish off the last of the keepers. Further down in the field, both Tauriel and Legolas were doing the same. Thranduil sniffed the air, tracing Bard's scent easily, sweet and rich as it was, to the barn and then, unfortunately, right to the take-off point of the ship. " _Rhaich,"_ he spat.

He turned and stalked back to Tauriel and Legolas, who were looking at him expectantly.

"Sir," Tauriel said, speaking in Sindarin. "I managed to attach a tracker onto the hull of their ship."

"Well done. We'll take your and Legolas' ships to go fetch Aras, and then we'll—shit."

"What is it?" Legolas asked as Thranduil buried his face in his hands.

"He has children."

"Oh."

"Fuck," Tauriel threw in mildly.

"Precisely…" Thranduil said, trying to think of what to do. He noticed Tauriel and Legolas exchange a meaningful glance, then Legolas spoke up again.

"Guess we've got two more stops to make before we find his majesty."

"Two—?" Thranduil began, puzzled. One stop to pick up the kids, but then…? Then he noticed the gleam in Legolas' eyes, and suddenly he was struck by realization. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. No way."

"Sorry Ada, you've been outvoted," Legolas said, already striding off towards the hangar. "Besides, you know they're the only ones who can actually help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, _so_ much to Nana for the absolutely _stunning_ artwork, go reblog it and give love [here.](http://angstyourwayin.tumblr.com/post/117309065254/art-piece-for-piyo-13s-fic-orion-ascendant-part) Right now <3


	3. iii. in which Bard does not quite know what to think about advanced alien technologies

Bard woke up on a sort of gurney, being carried through incredibly beautiful hallways that would not have looked out of place in a history textbook. He blinked a few times, waiting for his head to stop spinning. Unfortunately, his gurney-bearers—who were either most definitely _not human_ or else throwing the most elaborate possible Halloween party two months too early—noticed that he was awake, and with a bubble of chattering noises they tipped the gurney down so that Bard landed approximately on his feet.

He clenched his teeth and eyes tightly against the throbbing in his temples.

"Thy Majesty," someone said, their words slurred together in a curious way. Bard re-opened his eyes, coming face to face with—

—well, given the complicated gesture it was making with a three-fingered hand, probably _not_ an elephant, but the ears and elongated nose and general grey appearance certainly called one to mind.

"Uh, hi," Bard responded. He stared at the elephant-alien for a few seconds, and they stared back. Then they bowed deeply.

"If thou would follow me, I will take thee to our Lady."

"To your—?" Bard paused for a moment, frowning. "No, wait, where am I, first of all? Where is Thranduil? I don't remember—and—and what time is it, oh _God_ , I didn't even get a chance to call Sigrid—do _you_ guys have phones!?" 

The elephant-alien wiggled their ears, which Bard took to be the elephant-alien equivalent of a confused expression. "Thou art on the planet which we call Lothlórien, thy Majesty. It—it is currently stardate 4B7M2988, 7th hour. And I must profusely apologize," they said, bowing deeply again, "but I do not know of the word 'fon'."

"I—how long does it take to get from Earth to—to Lothlórien?"

"On the starship of the kind with which thou travelled, thy Majesty, no greater than six hours."

Bard groaned loudly, and the gurney-bearers behind him tittered again. Bard ignored them. "Well that's bloody _brilliant_. I have kids! They need to know where I am!" Bard ran his fingers through his hair, pulling slightly in an effort to slow the pounding in his head.

"If thou would give me a moment, thy Majesty," the elephant-alien said quietly, making another elaborate gesture as they stepped back two spaces, stuck a hand into one of the folds on their ridiculously elaborate cloak, pulled out a flip-phone—a _flip-phone_ of all things; Bard was starting to get _annoyed_ now, really, all he wanted to do was _call his children_ , why was everyone so determined to get in his way—and began making the same chittering noise as the gurney-bearers did. There was a moment's pause, and then the elephant-alien nodded, closing the flip-phone and turning back to Bard.

" _That_ ," Bard said, forestalling the alien and jabbing a finger in the direction of the phone, "is a phone." The alien's eyes widened a bit, and they glanced quickly between Bard and the phone, before hesitantly proffering it. Bard tch'd. "I bet you don't even have Earth indexed on your plan, do you?"

The alien shook their head, ears flattened against their head. "If—if thou seeketh to make contact with Terra this speaker will not suffice… But I made contact with the Lady, she would like me to assure thee that thy children are safe and well-cared for."

Bard snorted, bringing up a hand to cover his face. He took a long, very deep breath. The air on Lothlórien smelled like mist in an old forest. "Right. Right, okay. I don't trust you as far as I could throw you—which, believe me, would not be very far—but I swear to God and also several pagan deities that if _anything_ happens to my children, I will not hesitate to use as much space voodoo as I can get my hands on to utterly _obliterate_ you, are we clear?" Bard said with as much of a growl in his voice as he could muster, his heart already beating faster at just the thought of aliens finding his children.

The alien's ears, if possible, flattened even further to their head. "…space… voodoo?"

"You know what I mean," Bard spat. The alien hunched down, then turned the flinch into a bow.

"…of course, thy Majesty."

"And cut it with the 'thy Majesty' crap, for fucks' sake!"

"Right away, thy Majesty."

Bard made a sound that would have given a temper-tantruming Tilda a run for her money.

 

Bard did, however, end up following the elephant-alien on his own two feet, once the gurney-bearers had been dismissed. The elephant-alien led Bard through a stunning array of architectural wonders and gorgeous vistas out onto Lothlórien, though Bard paid only scant attention, preoccupied more with the fact that, oh, he was on an _alien planet_ being led to meet the _chief alien_ by an _alien minion_. Honestly, he was just waiting for the anal probes to come out, that would make his day (was it even day anymore? The sun—or at least, Lothlórien's version of the sun—was setting alarmingly quickly) complete.

The elephant-alien stopped in front of large double-doors. "Thy Majesty, if thou willt through these doors," they said. Bard looked at the doors skeptically, doubting that he would even be able to open them. They were at least thirty feet tall, made of what looked like stone, and ornately carved with what looked like various scenes from one large beheading fest. _Absolutely fucking wonderful._

"Pleasant doors," Bard remarked to the alien, who merely wiggled their ears again. With a sigh, Bard stepped forward, pushing due to the lack of visible handles. Contrary to Bard's expectations, the doors were actually incredibly light, and as a result, they flew open under his hands, hitting their stoppers with a loud, echoing bang. Bard winced.

"I must say," said a musical voice. "Not many manage to make such a… _loud_ impression, your majesty."

Bard looked around the large balcony, finally spotting a plush chair upon which an old lady was sitting, either side of the chair flanked by two people who were clearly bodyguards. They both had long hair, and Bard was vaguely reminded of Thranduil. Which, speaking of, he'd never gotten an answer about.

"I'm no one's majesty, though I'm assuming you are the Lady that I've been told to meet?" he said.

The old lady chuckled, rising slowly from her chair. She was taller than Bard expected, almost taller than him, and despite the lines on her face, something about her emanated power. Bard took an unconscious step back. "Yes, you surmise correctly, I am indeed the Lady Galadriel. But come now, Bard, surely someone has explained your circumstances to you?"

That struck a nerve. "No, actually, no one has, but thanks for asking. I was actually in the middle of _getting_ an explanation when you interrupted!"

The Lady Galadriel merely chuckled again. "Walk with me? I will explain along the way." Bard stared at the woman, then looked around, taking stock of his situation. He was on an alien planet, on a balcony, with some old lady and two bodyguards that looked about as nice as bricks, and the elephant-alien had vanished as well. Bard took a steadying breath.

"Might as well," he grumbled, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets and doing his best to slouch. Galadriel beamed at him, and began shuffling out the doors through which Bard had just come, though she led him down a different corridor.

"Now then," she began. "First matters first—do you know why you are here?"

"I just told you no," Bard said. One of the bodyguards sent him a dirty look at his tone, but Bard ignored him.

"But you know you are royalty?"

"No. No, see, I'm pretty sure you are all mistaken—I'm a mechanic. I can barely pay the rent for our apartment, forget kingdoms or—or galactic empires or whatever."

"Hm. Please, this door," Galadriel said, cutting across Bard's way and entering a side room. Bard followed her in, and then stopped. On a pedestal in the middle of the room sat a statue of… well, of _Bard_.

"What the…" He stared at it. The statue was accurate, right down to the way that small tuft of hair behind his ear always stuck out a little bit, no matter how much he tried to smooth it down.

"This was my father, Girion," Galadriel said, then corrected herself: "well, my stepfather, at any rate."

"Why does he look exactly like me?" Bard asked, honestly feeling a bit creeped out.

"Tell me, Bard, do you believe in reincarnation?" Bard blinked, then turned to look at her, but she was gazing serenely at the statue. "Because we do. You see, when the exact same genetic sequence appears twice… well, that is reincarnation. You are, simply put, my father's reincarnation, and as such, the rightful head of the Abrasax family, with all the vast holdings that entails." Galadriel now made eye contact with Bard, her gaze fierce. "Come, before I explain the situation further, there is something I wish to show you first."

Bard shot one last glance at the statue of purportedly past-him before following Galadriel back out of the side room, the bodyguards trailing a few steps behind them. Bard stared straight ahead, not giving much attention to where he was going. _So between royalty-detecting bees and space statues, I guess that really does make me space royalty, if anything is even to be believed…_

"Here we are," Galadriel announced. She walked through a split in a thick curtain, Bard following her. Her bodyguards stopped outside. The curtain led to yet another balcony, though this one sported a pool of sorts, overlooking a grand waterfall in the red-bushed landscape.

Galadriel stopped walking and held her arms out. Before Bard could even frown in confusion, attendants—more elephant-aliens—appeared seemingly from nowhere and— _stripped_ her. Bard was too shocked at the sudden lack of clothes to react as Galadriel strode forward and into the pool, descending the steps until she was submerged to her neck. Then the stopped and turned back to Bard.

"Watch," she said, before calling out something in a language that wasn't English. For a few seconds, nothing happened, but then the water started to glow. Bard's eyebrows slowly rose, but Galadriel seemed as calm as ever. The water glowed even more, and soon Bard realized that it wasn't only the water—Galadriel herself was also glowing. Glowing and growing younger… Bard stared as the wrinkles in her face smoothed over, as thin lips became full, and her white hair slowly turned to the color of plaited gold.

Then, quickly as it started, the water, and Galadriel by proxy, stopped glowing—but she now didn't look a day over twenty-five. She walked back out of the water, just as slowly as she'd walked in, staring at Bard the whole time. He blushed, but managed to keep his eyes staring into hers—though, there was no doubt that she was definitely in the prime of her life at this point. Her arms extended again, and servants rushed back in, pressing small buttons to Galadriel's shoulders, which transformed into flowing white robes. Finally, one servant came and placed a small circlet on her head.

"As you see, Bard, technology is a wonderful invention, one that can allow for almost infinite life."

"…so I know I'm not supposed to ask, but—how old _are_ you?"

"Me? I am barely a century over six thousand," she said with a smile, while Bard coped with those implications. "My father was almost ten thousand at the time of his death."

Bard whistled lowly. "Is there a limit to how long you can… space voodoo yourselves younger, then?"

Galadriel tilted her head. "No."

"Oh. So then why did… your father die?"

"Ah, straight to the point," she said, her eyes glittering. She motioned for Bard to follow her again, and they set off down a different hallway, similar to the one Bard had woken up in—large white pillars, open to the air and overlooking vast expanses of Lothlórien. At some point, Galadriel's guards had wandered back in.

"The point?" Bard asked after a few seconds. Galadriel nodded, pausing in their walk to take something from a servant ( _when did she even ask for that?)_. When she turned back to Bard, she was holding three cylinders in hand, long and thin, almost like batons. Inside, they swirled with a light blue color—the same color that the pool had been.

"Yes. You see, the downside to this life—to this precious immortality—is that each of these vials," she said, holding up one of the glowing blue cylinders, "necessitates no less than one hundred human lives to make."

"…what?"

"The body wears itself down, on a biological level. However, this serum is able to rejuvenate the body, by… replacing all the cells within it, essentially. All the larger physical structures remain the same, of course, but that which makes one 'old'… that is simply replaced. But in order to provide enough raw materials, human cells must be harvested in enormous quantities. A hundred per rejuvenation, to be exact. After some thousand years, my father became… I believe the term is a 'conscientious objector'."

"You're telling me you—you _kill_ people? For their _cells?"_

Galadriel seemed to shrug lightly, but a tad annoyed, as if this wasn't what she'd expected Bard to get hung up on. "We harvest them, yes. They feel no pain."

"No pain."

"None. But you must realize, the balance between stock planets is very delicate, Bard. And with my father's passing, all his territories are to be passed on to the next in line—this is Smaug. With my father's holdings, Smaug is becoming… _the_ power in the galaxy. Unless, of course, you were to claim yourself as my father's reincarnation, at which point all rights would revert automatically back to you." She paused for a moment, looking at Bard pensively. "Terra, in case you were wondering, was a part of my father's holdings. No doubt Smaug plans to harvest soon…"

"…are you serious?!"

Galadriel blinked. "Why, of course. And you are the only chance to save—"

"No, no, back up a fucking minute here. Listen, I come from—from Terra, okay? We haven't even sent people farther than the moon, and you guys are… you're creating species and doing whatever the fuck it was that you just did, and yet you kill _living humans_ for this?! Even on bloody _Earth_ , we—! For crying out loud, my son _just_ did a research project on the fact that we are perfectly capable of growing beef in a lab! With your technology you should be able to generate cells from scratch no problem! But instead you _harvest_ entire, _sentient_ human beings! I can't believe this!" Bard threw his hands up, glaring and hoping that the 'what the fuck' gesture was universal.

Galadriel seemed taken aback, and her guards exchanged a glance. "I will admit that such a technology has never been taken into account—"

"Well yes _clearly_ seeing as you lot are planning on, you know, annihilating Earth! Which, speaking of! My kids! _They're_ on Earth! And if _they_ get—if they get hurt, I _swear_ —"

"Bard, please—" Galadriel's face suddenly went blank, and she cocked her head, as if listening. Her guards moved between her and the open-air hallway, and suddenly there was phaser fire everywhere, ricocheting off of the stone walls.

And then a familiar voice—" _Bard!"_

"Thranduil?!" Bard looked around for the source of the phasers, trying to pinpoint them.

"Yes, me," Thranduil said, arriving in front of Bard with a whoosh of air. He quickly glanced Bard over. "Good, you're not hurt."

"No… are those flying roller skates?"

"What? Ye—actually, wait, we don't have time for this. We have to—"

"Ah, Thranduil. How nice to see you again," Galadriel said, gently waving a hand at her guards, who lowered what looked like holographic shields they'd erected around her person, although both of them looked very reluctant to follow that order.

"Lady Galadriel," Thranduil said stiffly. "I'm taking his Majesty."

Galadriel smile serenely. "Very well then," she said, before switching into a different language, saying something that caused her to laugh and Thranduil to snarl, baring his fangs, and Bard's heart was beating faster only because he was _scared,_ damnit. Then Thranduil turned to Bard, dropping to the ground and walking the remaining two steps over, before picking up a very stunned Bard, bridal-style.

Bard sputtered and made cursory attempts to free himself, but then Thranduil took off, and Bard yelped, wrapping his arms around Thranduil's neck instinctively. Below them, Galadriel was waving, still with a smile, though Bard could have sworn he'd seen a somber expression flit across her face.

"Hold on tight," Thranduil muttered, adjusting his grip on Bard slightly. Bard tightened the hold he had on Thranduil's neck as they rose even higher into the sky, burying his nose into Thranduil's shoulder. Thranduil smelled like sun-dried earth and a bit of musk, and as he re-adjusted his grip on Bard once again, Bard was forced to admit that his heart definitely wasn't racing because of fear anymore.

Then a thought popped into Bard's mind.

"Hey, where are we even going?"

"Tauriel is parked just over the cliff there," Thranduil replied, and Bard twisted a bit for a better look. Beneath them (and beneath Thranduil's frankly glorious legs, which were roller skating on thin air, as far as Bard could tell) was a large, many-tiered white palace, built up against the side of a cliff. They climbed a bit higher, finally cresting the edge, but Bard still didn't see any ships.

Then Thranduil landed lightly on the ground, and the air in front of them flickered, a spaceship appearing out of thin air. Bard was actually impressed. "So cloaking is a thing, huh?" he asked. Thranduil shot him a look.

"Yes. If you'll please board, your Majesty? We do not know how long Lady Galadriel's benevolence will last," he said, looking as though he had a bitter taste in his mouth.

"What did she say to you?" Bard asked as he climbed the ramp into the ship, which was about five times the size of _Aras._ As soon as both he and Thranduil were inside, the ramp retracted and closed off the back end of the ship, and Tauriel's voice rang out over the speakers.

" _Hello, Bard! Welcome aboard. Please sit down, getting space-borne is always a little bumpy_."

Bard looked around, realizing that he was essentially standing in a large corridor—it all reminded him a bit of those military transport craft he'd seen, to be honest—and that both sides were lined with seats. Bard sat down in one, looking around for a seatbelt and buckling it. Across from him, Thranduil sat down and did the same.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, though that was mostly due to Bard concentrating furiously on his stomach in hopes of not throwing up thanks to the constant back-and-forth of the ship as it began ascending. And also trying to pop his ears, which was thoroughly unpleasant.

" _Launching to orbit, now,_ " Tauriel said eventually. The ship shuddered violently along before suddenly becoming steady. Bard let out a sigh of relief.

"Better now?" Thranduil asked, and Bard could have sworn he was smiling.

"Much."

"Good."

"So," Bard said after a beat. "Do you know this Galadriel lady? Because she told me a few things that I'd like to talk about, if for no other reason than everyone seems to enjoy pelting me with information and kidnapping me rather than actually bothering to _explain_ anything—"

"We will discuss what she told you in a moment, but first, I thought you would like to know—your children are safe."

"They're safe! Wait—are they still on Earth? Because Galadriel just told me—"

"Ah, no, they are no longer on Earth. We—Tauriel, Legolas, and I, I mean—took the liberty of arranging for their secure lodging."

"Are you saying you _kidnapped_ my _kids?!_ "

"No, no!" Thranduil said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "We simply moved them to a secure off-planet location. Legolas is with them as well as his… fiancé."

"Oh, Legolas is engaged?"

"Unfortunately."

"You don't seem particularly thrilled."

"It's a rather… long story."

"…okay. Can I at least _talk_ to my kids, then? You know, like I've been asking _everyone_ for the last however-long?"

Thranduil sighed, then unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, walking over to a glass wall at the end of the spaceship. He knocked on it. It slid open. "Tauriel, patch us through to Aglarond?" Bard leaned forward, then finally gave in and unbuckled his own seatbelt as well, walking over to where Thranduil was standing.

Tauriel grinned over her shoulder, fiddling with some controls. "Right away, sir." Thranduil sighed again and pinched his nose. Bard noticed one of his ears was twitching ever so slightly.

"So this long story… it's not anything dangerous, is it?" he asked. Thranduil shook his head.

"Not to your children, no. Children are fairly important in their culture, they wouldn't dare do anything even mildly harmful. My issues stem from a more personal… matter." In the background, a dialing tone rang out softly over the ship's loudspeakers.

"Right… who is 'them', exactly?"

"They call themselves Khazâd, but I believe they once visited Terra and became known as… dwarves?" Thranduil looked questioningly at Bard, who stared back blankly for a few seconds, before realizing his input was needed.

"You mean, dwarves, like, short little people? That like to mine?"

"Yes! Yes, them, exactly. They come from the Andromeda region, originally. In any case, Legolas has betrothed himself to one of them—"

"His name is _Gimli_ , Thranduil, you should be able to at least remember his _name_ by now!"

"—and he thought it would be a good idea to bring your kids there—"

"Bard," Tauriel interrupted, swiveling her chair around completely and more-or-less abandoning the controls, "Don't listen to him, he makes everything sound worse than it is. The place your children are at, Aglarond, is known as one of the most unassailable space stations in the galactic cluster. Even should anything try to go after them, they'd hardly get through the khuzdul gates and defenses. Your children are perfectly safe." She looked at Bard earnestly, and Bard slowly exhaled.

"Alright, good. Okay." He smiled faintly at her, and she nodded once, then turned back to the controls. Just then, the dialing tone stopped, and a gruff voice spoke out over the intercoms. Tauriel answered cheerily, and the two talked back and forth for a few seconds, Bard impatiently shifting from side to side. Finally, Thranduil interrupted with something harsh, and then there was a scuffle on the other side of the line.

" _DA I'M SO TOTALLY JOINING STARFLEET NOW?!_ "

Bard felt like crying in relief, though he settled for sitting back down on one of the chairs. "Hello to you too, Bain."

" _I mean, hi da, but seriously! This guy came, Thranduil? And he said that you'd been kidnapped by aliens and—"_

_"Hi da!"_

"Hello, Tilda. How are you?"

" _Oi, I wasn't done yet! Anyways he said we had to go with him and at first Sigrid didn't believe him or the other aliens but then they were actually really nice and some mean ones came too and they started fighting and they protected us and Thranduil showed us this video of you at a farm and Sigrid believed him finally and so Legolas said his fiancé was in charge of a huge space station and that we could go visit there because it was safer and so then—"_

_"We're in space, da! There's stars everywhere and everyone is the same height as me!"_

" _Tilda's been telling everyone all the stuff she learned in school this past week,"_ Sigrid's voice finally broke through the clutter. " _And I think I might take a leaf out of Bain's book here and join Starfleet as well… There's not a lot of humans here but Gimli's told me there are other places in the galaxy where more are employed."_

_"Da I want to be an astronomer!"_

_"But anyways, since everyone keeps interrupting me, we're on a space station! And it's so cool! I wish I'd been able to bring my phone, though, everything looks so cool here…"_

Bard was suddenly left with the feeling of grasping at straws."I—I mean, well, that's lovely, but you all have to finish school first…"

" _We can take school here!"_

"…absolutely not. Aren't you guys reacting a bit too calmly to all this?"

" _Aw but daaaaa, they're super nice here! Gimli already offered to teach me some things!"_

 _"Tauriel even said she'd teach me to fight!"_ Sigrid added. Bard shot a glance at the back of Tauriel's head. He thought her ears might have been tinged red, but he couldn't be sure. Bard sighed heavily.

"Listen, guys—"

"I hate to interrupt, but we're approaching the _Nungu Zantulbasn_ , we'll be docking in two minutes," Thranduil said. Bard's kids tittered.

" _Is that Thranduil?"_

_"Is Tauriel there too? She was suuuper nice, da!"_

Bard rubbed his eyes. "Yes, that was Thranduil, and Tauriel's driving the ship I'm on… But I guess I have to go, now. You guys behave, you hear me? Sigrid, please, just, try to keep things somewhat in order?" Bard pleaded.

Sigrid snickered. _"I'll try, da. We're safe though, you know that, right?"_

 _"Safe and happy!"_ Tilda added. Despite himself, Bard smiled.

"Yes, I know that now. Thank you."

 _"Okay then, we'll let you go. Bye, da,"_ Sigrid said.

 _"Bye! I'm still joining Starfleet though,_ " Bain added.

_"Bye-bye da!"_

"Bye…"

Then the gruff voice came back on, and Thranduil said something in return, at which point the line went dead. Bard buried his face in his hands, taking several deep breaths. His kids were safe and very clearly enjoying themselves, and he was on his way to safety (hopefully) and also probably galactic inheritance (maybe? If what Galadriel had said was true), but that was a whole other matter entirely. Bard looked up when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

Thranduil was looking down at him, expression soft. He didn't say anything, just squeezed Bard's shoulder a little bit, but Bard still felt instantly more grounded.

"This is _Mehksar,_ requesting permission to dock," Tauriel said over the speakers, and Thranduil let go of Bard's shoulder. Bard almost missed the warmth and reassurance.

There was a crackle of static, followed by another gruff voice—though this one was distinctly higher in pitch.

"Roger," Tauriel said with a smile.

Bard stood up and walked over to one of the windows, staring out as a large spaceship pulled into view, lights flashing on its hull and lighting it up against the dark background of empty space. Bard let out a low whistle.

"I will admit that while I do not particularly care for the owner of the vessel, the ship itself is… quite magnificent," Thranduil said, coming up to stand next to Bard.

"I'll say."

They stood there in silence for a while as Tauriel navigated the small ship into one of the docks and landed with barely a bump on the docking bay floor. After a few seconds, the doors of their ship slipped open, and Thranduil gestured for Bard to walk forward with an incline of his head and a 'your Majesty'. Bard rolled his eyes at the title, but nonetheless stepped forward first.

He lingered in the docking bay general area until both Tauriel and Thranduil disembarked and pointed him towards where he had to go. A little hesitantly—after all, _last_ time he'd been told to open a door, he'd come face-to-face with a naked alien claiming to be his (maybe?) daughter, despite being several (thousand) years older than him.

"Oh thank God, no naked people," Bard muttered under his breath once the door was open, eliciting a small noise from Thranduil. The door had opened into a short hallway, at the end of which were standing two people—well, aliens, most likely, given that even the taller of the two couldn't have reached more than Bard's chest, and the other was at least a full foot shorter than that even.

"Mae govannen," Thranduil said stiffly, and Bard glanced back to see him clenching his teeth, fangs almost protruding in a weak facsimile of a smile.

"Who's that?" Bard whispered to Thranduil as Tauriel stepped forward and began speaking quickly.

"Thorin Markhu'azghzars, Captain of this ship. He is also a Khazâd. It is with him specifically that it is a long story."

"Ah. And the other guy?"

"Thorin's Chief Officer and lover, Bilbo Baggins. He is a Periannath, and probably the only reason Thorin is granting us assistance."

"Your Majesty, sir, Chief Officer Bilbo would like us to accompany him to the bridge, where we can discuss the next course of action," Tauriel said, bowing slightly to Bard with a wink. Incidentally, Bard noticed Thorin stand slightly straighter as Bilbo muttered something at him.

Tauriel dropped behind as Bard began to follow the Captain through various corridors. After a short but nonetheless exceedingly awkward elevator ride, in which Thranduil appeared to use Bard as a visual shield against Thorin, and Bilbo shot Bard a look of exasperation at the expense of Thranduil and Thorin both, they emerged into a large open area, with a domed, see-through roof.

They were instantly assaulted by another group of people, all of them short and talking excitedly, and one in particular leaping into Tauriel's arms for a kiss. Thranduil made a tsk'ing sound, but when Bard looked at him, he seemed to be stifling a smile. Bard looked back at Tauriel and the—the Khazâd, if appearances were correct, who was now back on his own feet, though Tauriel was still leaning down  so that their foreheads pressed together.

Then Bard felt a tugging at his sleeve, and he looked down to see Bilbo standing there, very clearly talking to him. Bard raised his hands and shook his head vehemently, trying to make eye contact with Thranduil for help.

"I don't—I can't understand you," Bard said helplessly when that failed. Bilbo narrowed his eyes, then held up a hand in a 'wait here' gesture, before stalking off to Thranduil. Bard slowly lowered his hands, noting with interest that Bilbo wasn't actually wearing any shoes, and indeed that his slate grey uniform cut off shortly under the knees. He quickly looked around at the others—including Thorin, there were about ten or so—but all of them were wearing full-length pants and thick combat boots, though only about half were wearing a uniform that resembled Bilbo's. The rest were dressed more like Thranduil, in form-fitting black (though, Bard admitted privately, it definitely looked better on Thranduil).

Speaking of Thranduil, he now seemed to be arguing with Bilbo, the former with a completely blank expression on his face and the latter gesturing animatedly and with a rather annoyed appearance. Neither of them were speaking English, so Bard was left to speculate as to what was going on, but Thorin, off to the side, was smilingly at Bilbo. Finally, Bilbo snapped at the one who was with Tauriel, who then scampered off with a salute.

An awkward silence settled over the bridge until the dark-haired Khazâd returned, hands cupped around something that he held out to Bard. Bard peered at it.

"This is a fish."

"You put them in your ears," Tauriel said brightly. "They translate for you!" Bard stared at her.

"I am _not_ putting a fish into my ear."

Thranduil stepped forward, well into Bard's space, and grabbed the fish straight out of the Khazâd's hand. "Just put it in your ear," he said, holding the fish out to Bard. The fish flopped limply a few times.

"No! No, I will _not_ put a fish in my ear, this isn't the Hitchhiker's Guide!"

"I have no idea what a Hitchhiker's Guide is, but you will put the damn fish in your ear or else I will do it for you. Your Majesty." Thranduil glared at him, fish in hand, and Bard glared back. Then the fish flopped again and Bard felt like laughing. Or crying. Whichever came first, actually.

"Fine! But only because you asked _so_ nicely," he said, snatching the fish from Thranduil and holding it by its tail. The fish seemed to stare into his soul. Bard thrust it back to Thranduil. "On second thought, you do it."

Thranduil snorted softly, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "As you wish," he said, and Bard closed his eyes. One of _the_ most interesting sensations he'd ever felt later, and Bard opened his eyes again.

In front of him, Bilbo was clapping his hands, bringing the rabble to order—and Bard was shocked to find that, true to Tauriel's/Douglas Adams' word, the fish was actually doing its job.

"Now then, I do believe a round of introductions are in order!" Bilbo said, elbowing Thorin expectantly. He harrumphed.

"Yes, yes, alright, needy Halfling… Very well. I am Thorin Oakenshield, Captain of this ship. This is Bilbo Baggins, my Chief Officer. These," he said, pointing, "are my crewmen. Balin, Dwalin, Ori, Nori, Oin, Fíli, Kíli, and Bofur. The rest are on active duty elsewhere in the ship."

"Excellent!" Bilbo said, clearly the more people-friendly of the two. "Now, your Majesty, we'll just sit over there at those tables and have a chat, if that's alright with you? The rest of you lot, get back to whatever you were doing before! Kíli, that means you too."

The dark-haired Khazâd with Tauriel laughed. "But Mr. Boggins!"

"That's Chief Officer to you! Fíli, please make sure your brother gets through that inventory, we really did need it done yesterday."

A blond Khazâd with curious little moustache braids nodded. "Aye aye, Chief Officer."

"Anyways, come along, this way," Bilbo said, ushering Bard and Thranduil toward a table. Thorin followed Bilbo, but Tauriel remained behind with Kíli. The four of them sat down at a table together, and then Bilbo, with a glance at Thorin, leaned forward. "So, your Majesty, I would very much be interested in hearing what the Lady Galadriel said to you."

Bard glanced at Thranduil, who nodded. With a deep breath, Bard launched into a recounting of everything Galadriel had said, trying to remain as impartial as he could, though a bit of anger might have trickled back in when he spoke of the blue cylinders. Thranduil and Bilbo nodded sympathetically at that, and though Thorin didn't, Bard thought that the Captain's features might have softened just a tad.

"So," he finished. "I'm quite frankly still a bit confused, especially as to how they found me in the first place, but… if there's any way to save Earth?" Bard looked at the other three a bit pleadingly. "It _is_ my home, after all." At those words, Thorin shifted slightly, the most motion he'd made since sitting down.

"Well, if what she said is true about Smaug and harvesting, and you're determined to save Terra, then we really have only one option, don't we?" Bilbo said, tapping his fingers against the table.

"Which is what, exactly?" Thranduil demanded, sitting tense on the edge of his chair. Bard gently laid a hand on his leg, hoping to calm him down. It seemed to work, because for all that Thranduil's ear tips turned red, he still slouched back into his chair a bit, his posture relaxing, even if the rest of him wasn't necessarily.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't?" Bilbo said, shooting Thranduil a look. "We take his Majesty to Dale posthaste, and get his inheritance registered. After that, Smaug can't touch Terra without giving his siblings cause to declare war, balance is restored, the Lady is happy, and his Majesty here is rich as can be. No one loses."

"Dale?" Bard asked.

"It's the largest space-station this side of the galaxy, and home to several universal administration departments as well, including the Abrasax family inheritances." Bilbo said.

"Ah."

There was a moment of silence. Bard waited, glancing from Thranduil to Bilbo to Thorin and back expectantly. Finally Thorin sighed.

"I'll go set course," he said, standing up. Bilbo beamed at him.

"Excellent!"

"Yes, yes," Thorin gruffed, but smiling at Bilbo nonetheless. He strode away, presumably towards whatever navigational device a spaceship used.

"In any case, I imagine you must be completely knackered by now, your Majesty?" Bilbo asked.

Bard was about to deny that claim, but now that Bilbo mentioned it, well. He was a _bit_ tired, to tell the truth. He yawned. "Well, maybe a little bit…"

"I'll have Bofur show you to your rooms, then. I'm afraid all we have to offer here is standard ship-fare in the rooms, nothing elaborate, but you'll see the synthesizer in the wall once you get to your rooms. I suggest you not try any tea other than black, though, the machines can't quite get the hang of it."

Bilbo sounded so forlorn that Bard actually laughed.

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you," he said. _Though, I have no idea how a synthesizer works…_

Bilbo smiled back at Bard. "Good. Bofur!" he called out, and one of the nearby Khazâd strolled over, his pig-tail braids sticking up a bit. "Oh, there you are," Bilbo said. "Would you mind showing his Majesty to his quarters? The nice ones, mind you."

"Aye, I can do that. If you'd follow me, your Majesty."

"Please, just Bard, both of you. I'm no one's majesty, trust me," he said, standing up. Next to him, Thranduil stood up as well, clearly marking his intentions to walk Bard to his room. Bard couldn't say he really minded, all things considered.

"Oh, pish posh," Bilbo said, waving a hand as he wrinkled his nose. "I'll see you in several hours, I imagine."

"Most likely. Thank you, again, for… everything, really," Bard said earnestly, unsure if hand-shaking was acceptable or not. Bilbo answered that question by making the same gesture that the elephant-alien had made to him when he'd been dropped off by Galadriel's, albeit with five fingers instead of three.

"It's nothing, I assure you. And please, don't hesitate to call the bridge if you have any questions about anything, alright?"

"Alright." Bard settled on waving, and then turned to Bofur, who was waiting patiently.

"Ready, your Majesty?"

"Ready. And again, please, just Bard."

"Very well, just Bard," Bofur said with a twinkle in his eye. "Your room is just down this way."

Bard, with Thranduil in tow, was then escorted to a small room that Bofur assured him was his for the time being, as well as apologizing once again for not having anything more appropriate for royalty. Bard waved off the apology, saying that the room was more than fine. Thranduil waited until Bofur was gone before turning to Bard and giving him a thorough once over.

"I am truly glad that you are safe, your Majesty," he said, bowing his head down slightly, a few strands of hair catching on his ears. He brought his right hand up to his chest, and motioned outward.

And then he left without a word. Bard stared at the closed door for several minutes, until another yawn overtook him, at which point he went and found the room's small bathroom (in which he promptly took a shower of the non-glowing variety) and the bed (upon which he immediately thereafter collapsed onto and fell asleep in). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul approximate translations that I (most likely inaccurately) patched together using the Dwarrow Scholar's dictionary:  
> -Nungu Zantulbasn = Flower of the Hobbit  
> -Mehksar = Great Deer  
> -Markhu'azghzars = Shield of Oak


	4. iv. in which Bard likes dogs, but not masters

Bard slept until Fíli came to wake him up, telling him that they had approximately two hours until their arrival in Dale, and that Bard would find clothes in his closet.  Upon investigation, the clothes had been of the space-warrior variety—black and form-fitting and with many, many pockets and straps. Bard was somewhat let down to see that unlike Thranduil's, his outfit didn't have any of the glowy blue bits.

He was just donning a piece that he hoped was a bracer and not some odd form of space underwear when he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in!" he said, pulling the last strap tight and heading towards the door, just as the door slid open. Bard found himself face-to-face with Thranduil as the other stepped into the small room. They were close enough that Bard could see Thranduil swallow, but neither of them moved. After a moment of (not purposefully) staring at Thranduil's neck, Bard looked up, meeting Thranduil's eyes.

"Uh, hi."

Thranduil's lips twitched. "Good morning, your Majesty. Did you sleep well?"

"Did I—oh, uh, yes, yeah, the bed was great, I, uh…"

"I see you found the clothes."

Bard looked down at himself, then back up at Thranduil. "Yeah."

Thranduil glanced Bard over, then frowned slightly, half-lifting a hand towards Bard before pausing. "You—one of your straps is buckled wrong. May I…?"

"Um, yeah, sure," Bard said. Thranduil's fingers were light on his chest as he undid two different straps, crossing them over quickly and rebuckling them. Thranduil smoothed the straps down, his hands lingering on Bard's chest. Bard exhaled softly, and Thranduil jerked his hands away.

"Your Majesty, I only came to… give you something. Er, an object, that is, not, ah, not anything else." Thranduil was blushing faintly, a fact which Bard found adorable and amusing.

"Are you sure you don't want to, ah, as you put it, give me anything else?" Bard asked, his voice low and very pointedly flicking his eyes to Thranduil's lips. Thranduil blushed more deeply, and for a moment it seemed as though he would lean forward, but then he pulled back suddenly and took a step in reverse.

"Your Majesty, I have more in common with a _dog_ than I do with you," Thranduil replied, avoiding Bard's gaze.

..

Bard shook his head slightly. "That's okay. I love dogs! I've always loved dogs. Only we don't have one because of the rules of our apartment, so we got Tilda a fish instead but then she forgot to feed it and it died, and then she insisted on holding a funeral in the park, and then we had to get another, and—" Bard's brain slowly caught up to his mouth, and his eyes widened, horrified. "Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine, your Majesty," Thranduil said, inclining his head in a way that was clearly meant to be respectful, but that only distracted Bard with the way his hair slipped forward. "But I did actually come here for a reason. I wanted to give you this." Thranduil reached behind his back, and then pulled out what looked like a small, thin black tube. He extended it towards Bard, who took it blankly.

"What is it?"

"Press the button on the end."

Bard pressed it, and the slender tube fanned out and opened, taking on the shape of—

"Is this a crossbow?" Bard asked, looking up at Thranduil with confusion. Thranduil placed a hand on Bard's and gently guided the pointy end of the thing out sideways, away from his body. He didn't remove his hand.

"Of sorts. It's called the Black Arrow."

"Aptly named."

"Yes. But even more than that, it's a rare weapon—only a very few were ever made, commissioned by Girion himself. The Black Arrow is unique in that, unlike phasers or traditional arrows, it is capable of… attuning to its user's brainwaves."

"…okay…?"

"As long as you are the one firing it, it will never miss its mark, no matter how badly you aim," Thranduil elaborated. Bard raised his eyebrows, looking down at the little black crossbow with new appreciation. "It also has a penetrative force superior to most more conventional weapons. Very little cannot be harmed by this arrow. To fire it, pull the trigger on the underside, here. It will reload itself automatically; there are only three bolts left, though, so use them wisely."

Bard stared at the arrow a little bit, then up at Thranduil. "Why are you giving this to me?"

Thranduil averted his gaze. The tips of his ears were still slightly pink, Bard noted.

"Because you out of all of us have no training with weapons. Even Bilbo, for all his appearances, is quite a formidable fighter when it comes down to it. This… the Black Arrow is easy to hide and nigh impossible to find once someone has hidden it, because it comes with its own inbuilt cloaking devices. It will hopefully keep you safe, even when I—even when you otherwise aren't protected."

"Oh. I—thank you, Thranduil. Really." Bard looked up, meeting Thranduil's eyes. They were still standing close, and Bard saw Thranduil's eyes flick down to his lips and then back up. He was just mustering his courage to lean forward when Thranduil brought up his hand between them, and consequently also Bard's hand and the Black Arrow.

"You close it by clicking the button again," he said, moving Bard's fingers for him. The Black Arrow snapped back into the thin rod form, and Thranduil took it gently from Bard's grip. Then he took Bard's left hand and flipped it over, so he was palm up.

"What are you doing?" Bard asked as Thranduil began unlacing his bracer.

"The Black Arrow will be hardest to find if it's hidden in a place that looks natural—under your bracers, for example, where it won't be noticed but also won't be in danger of accidentally getting pressed." Thranduil slid the Black Arrow snugly under the bracer, and then did it back up (in half the time it had taken Bard).

"Thank you," Bard repeated, twisting his arm and bending it. The Black Arrow bore no impact on his range of motion.

"Good. Now, erm, I was also sent to inform you that your children called while you were asleep—the time is about nine hours forward in Aglarond—and left you a message."

"Did they? Where can I hear it?" Bard asked. Thranduil handed him a small tile, which he took. "You realize I have no idea how to use this, right? Other than decorating floors."

"Ah, sorry. You just…" Thranduil swiped his fingers over the tile and tapped, and the tile began to show a pattern—slowly, the image sharpened into a few weird symbols. "Now press the green button," Thranduil instructed.

Bard did so, then waited a few seconds. He was just about to press it again when the message started.

 _"Hi, da! It's Sigrid. I've decided I'm_ definitely _joining Starfleet, or at least coming to work on Aglarond… Legolas has a garden here, there's plants like you wouldn't believe! And Legolas even showed me one type that wasn't even carbon-based… it's so cool. Anyways, I hope you're well—no one's really explained much of what's going on beyond you being royalty, so… though, to be fair, I don't know that anyone here even really knows what's going on. But here's Bain, he's poking me."_

_"Hi da! Are you sure we even need to go back to Earth at this point? Okay bye!"_

_"Da! Gimli said you're a space princess, but I told him no, you are a space_ king! _I also found a big big book about stars, but Gimli says I'm not allowed to take it out of the library so I sit there a lot and read there. I really like it here, even though they don't know what ice cream is!"_

_"Okay, that's everyone now. Bye, da!"_

The recording stopped, Bard smiling at the little tile.

 Thranduil gave him a moment before clearing his throat again. "In any case, your Majesty, we should head up to the bridge. I know for a fact that Chief Officer Bilbo has taken the liberty of preparing quite a spread for your breakfast…"

"Oh, yes, of course," Bard said, returning the tile to Thranduil. Thranduil tucked it into a pocket, and then led Bard out of his quarters and to the bridge, where Bilbo was feeding Thorin some pieces of what looked suspiciously like strawberry shortcake. As soon as they were spotted, Thorin got up and left, and Bilbo marched over, shoving what appeared to be toast into Bard's hand and instructing him to eat.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked. Bard nodded.

"Do you have any coffee?"

"Coffee? Right away, your Majesty," Bilbo said, happily bustling about to procure the stuff. After a few seconds, Thranduil sat down next to Bard.

"You should be aware," he said, "that getting your inheritance will likely be a long process."

Bard squinted at him, swallowing down a bite of toast. "What do you mean, long process?"

"Dale… it _is_ an administrative hub but it's… not well known for its ease of navigation."

"I wouldn't worry about that too much," Bilbo said, returning with a mug of coffee that he offered to Bard. "I took the liberty of calling up an old friend who works there, he should be able to guide you through the process as painlessly as it gets."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow at Bilbo, but didn't say anything. Bard took a sip of the coffee, almost spitting it out. Whatever it was, it was _not_ coffee. In fact, it tasted more like that disgusting cough medicine Bard had had to take in his youth… With a faint smile at Bilbo, he set the mug down.

"On second thought, I think I'd just prefer some water, thanks."

Bilbo looked confused, but shrugged and gave Bard water anyways. They chatted amiably for a bit, Bilbo being a skilled conversationalist and covering for both Bard and Thranduil, who were much less so. Eventually, Bard finished his meal, and Bilbo escorted him and Thranduil to one of the ship's docks, to a small shuttle that was hovering a foot or so off the ground.

"This will take us to the Legal Occurrences Building in Dale, we're pretty far on the outskirts now," Bilbo said. They got in, though they discovered that the seats were probably not built for people of human stature, and Bard and Thranduil ended up with their thighs and shoulders pressed close together (not that Bard minded all _that_ much, truth be told).

It took them a fair amount of time to get to the Legal Occurrences Building, during which Bard was exceedingly grateful that the person flying their shuttle—'more of a taxi, really', according to Bilbo—flew them smoothly and with minimal turbulence. When they disembarked, Bilbo started off almost immediately, leaving Bard and Thranduil to tag behind. He still wasn't wearing any shoes.

Finally, Bilbo slowed down, motioning for Bard to come closer.

"This is Gandalf," Bilbo said, pointing up at a man who sported grey robes and a long white beard. "Gandalf, this is his Majesty Bard, and this is his… bodyguard, Thranduil." Bard snorted at the last bit, though Thranduil seemed to take it in stride, already standing at parade rest half a step behind Bard.

"Welcome, welcome," Gandalf said, smiling at Bard. 

"I'll make sure a shuttle is waiting for you when you're finished!" Bilbo said. "And thank you for agreeing to this on such short notice, Gandalf."

"My pleasure, Master Baggins. I hope we will find time to take our tea together again soon."

"Within a fortnight or three, at least," Bilbo replied, smiling. "In any case, I'll see you two back at the ship later! Bye!"

"Bye," Bard said, waving as Bilbo retreated. Thranduil didn't say anything, and Bard elbowed him. Thranduil raised an eyebrow, but didn't so much as flinch (Bard secretly thought he saw the beginnings of a smile on Thranduil's face, but he wasn't entirely sure).

"Shall we get started then? Please follow me," Gandalf said, and led the way to the doors, the press of people growing with every step they took. When they made it through the doors, Bard peered around Gandalf's shoulder, and gulped. The crowd was like nothing he'd ever seen before, all manner of aliens grouped together, milling about in chaos. He saw at least one elephant-alien in the mix. Bard laughed a bit self-deprecatingly.

"I hope I don't get lost…"

"If you do, don't worry, I can track you by scent," Thranduil said. Bard blinked at him.

"What?"

Thranduil shrugged. "Lycanthan," he said, thumbing his nose. Bard stared for a second, not having previous considered what exactly being a wolf-hybrid entailed, though he supposed it _did_ make sense.

"Now then, come along, no time to dally!" Gandalf said, sweeping around and placing a hand on Bard's shoulder, guiding him forward. Somehow, they got through the crowd, then waited in line, and then got redirected to a different stall because of some missing document or another.

And then at the next stall, they got forwarded elsewhere, because some other form had to be stamped through and signed first… Bard could feel a headache threatening to come on. He sincerely pitied Gandalf for his job.

Some three hours and a fair bit of bribing later, they were in a long-forgotten corner of the basement (or… maybe not. Did space station cities even _have_ basements?), Gandalf now on this third pipe and several stapled sheaves of paper in hand, all of them signed and stamped in triplicate.

They approached the service window. "Bother," Gandalf said, puffing several increasingly complicated smoke rings into the air. Thranduil wrinkled his nose.

"Um…" Bard said, looking at the teller. "He appears to be asleep."

"Yes, that is quite problematic," Gandalf acknowledged. Then, with a sigh, he slammed his palm flat to the counter, and the teller jerked awake with a shout.

"Wuah—oh, Gandalf, it's you."

"Yes, Radagast, it is me. Now then, Mr. Bard would like to claim his inheritance, if you would be so kind?"

"Oh, why yes, of course, Mr. Bard you said? If you would come here…" Radagast trailed off, searching around his cluttered workspace for something. Bard shuffled closer to the counter. He was pretty sure Radagast had an actual bird's nest in his hair, but Bard didn't say anything.

After more searching and quite a bit of hushed muttering, Radagast a-ha'd and brought up a small box on top of which was a thick metal circle. He pressed a button, and then picked up the various forms that Gandalf had set nearby, and began leafing through them, occasionally pausing to enter something into the little box.

"Alright," he finally said, peering up over his glasses at Bard. "It seems like everything's in order."

"It had better be," Thranduil muttered from behind Bard, and Bard stifled a laugh.

Radagast blinked twice at Thranduil, but then spoke to Bard. "Your Majesty, if you would please remove your right bracer and put your arm here through the circlet, and turn your palm to the ceiling…"

Wordlessly, Bard did as he was bid, and then Radagast pressed another button. Bard almost retracted his hand when he felt the pinch, but Radagast, surprisingly fast, had grabbed Bard's fingers and was holding them still.

"What the hell?" Bard asked, leaning down to peer inside the circlet. A small robotic arm was moving quickly, poking a needle at Bard's skin and forming and increasingly complicated series of glowing lines.

"This, your Majesty, is your royal seal. It will unlock anything that you set your signature key to, as well as forming binding legal contracts when you use it." Radagast let go of Bard's fingers, and Bard pulled his arm out of the circlet, rubbing his forearm and watching as the tattoo faded from glowing to being completely skin colored.

"What do you mean by 'use it'?"

"Here," Radagast said, handing Bard a thin box. On the top, there was a circle, approximately the size of the tattoo Bard had just gotten, and—oh. Bard held his arm, palm down, over the circle. The tattoo began to glow again, as did the circle on the box. Then, with a soft whirr, the box popped open, and the tattoo faded again. Inside were all of the papers they'd just had done, as well as another, smaller paper that appeared to be a certificate of some sort. It wasn't written in any language Bard could read, but the circle-y design in the bottom left looked very similar to the one on Bard's arm.

"Wonderful, wonderful," Gandalf said, somehow blowing a smoke ring that looked like many exploding fireworks. "Thank you once again, Radagast. Now then, his Majesty and Mr. Oropherion must well be off now, important business to attend to and all that!" Gandalf waved to Radagast and then spun Bard around, guiding him by the shoulders back to the elevator they'd come down in.

Eventually, they made their way back outside the building, to the same parking lot-esque clearing.

"Well then," Bard said as his stomach rumbled. "That was horrible. I am _never_ complaining about Earth bureaucracy ever again!"

Gandalf chuckled. "Oh, come now, that might be taking it a bit too far, surely? Either way, here is your transport, it will return you to the docks."

Bard and Thranduil thanked Gandalf, then boarded the small transport shuttle. A while later they arrived at the general space dock, and Bard was content to follow Thranduil as he guided them to their ship. Or, well, Thorin's ship, really, but, you know.

When they arrived back, Bard with a shiny new tattoo and deeds of inheritance in tow, Bilbo greeted them on the deck.

"Your Majesty, you have received an invitation," he said, looking like he would much rather eat a muddy boot than say that. Bard frowned.

"An invitation?"

"Yes. To the Master's." Bilbo wrinkled his nose.

"Who?" Bard asked, turning a questioning gaze on Thranduil.

"The Master is the youngest of the Abrasax siblings. His real name is Bob, but he doesn't like it, so he makes everyone call him the Master."

"Right. What's he the Master of, exactly?"

"You know, I have yet to figure that bit out," Thranduil said, shrugging lightly.

"He's a pompous arsehole who could do with a lesson or two. No doubt he'll try and convince you to give up your holdings. Which, your Majesty, let me just tell you, completely off the record, that you should under no circumstance do that!" Bilbo waggled a finger up at Bard. "Between you and me, your former children are all rather basket-case-y, and we need at least _one_ powerful royal that isn't concerned with the slaughter of millions as a substitute for longevity!"

"Are you kidding me?" Bard said, holding up the deed. "I just went through bureaucratic hell for this, no way am I giving it up any time soon." He smiled at Bilbo, but the Chief Officer remained completely serious.

"He will try to coerce you, and convince you that it's for the best. Promise me that you will not turn over your portion of the universe to the likes of him."

Bard was taken aback by the severity of Bilbo's tone, but he nodded. "I promise."

"Good," Bilbo said. "Now on to the next problem—your invitation came in the form of… well. The Master actually sent someone to collect you. He didn't appear to know that you were in Dale to collect your inheritance, though, so we just told him you were asleep."

A half-step behind Bard, Thranduil groaned.

"Not Alfrid?" he said. Bilbo nodded sadly.

"Unfortunately Alfrid."

"Who's Alfrid?"

"The Master's henchman, essentially," Thranduil said. "He smells like rotting fish and is just as vile to work with."

"An unpleasant but accurate description," Bilbo said. "In any case, it's probably best you accept the invitation. The Master's been known to hold grudges for the smallest of slights."

"Okay then. Where to, I guess?" Bard asked.

"I'm coming with you," Thranduil said, stepping forward, shoulder-to-shoulder with Bard. Bilbo snorted.

"Of course you are. Alright then, follow me, I'll take you to Alfrid."

"Could we maybe make a stop for snacks along the way, though?" Bard asked. "I'm a bit hungry."

"Oh, but of course!" Bilbo said. "Come on, we'll do that first, it'd do Alfrid some good to learn patience."

 

Alfrid, as it turned out, was both a human and just as unpleasant and _slimy_ , for lack of better word, as everyone had said. He'd brought them to a smaller spaceship, sneering all the while at Thorin's and acting superior to everyone, which bothered Bard to no end. Thranduil displayed no emotion whatsoever on his face, but Bard suspected he was equally annoyed.

Their ride to Esgaroth was fraught with awkward silences, and for all that it only took an hour, it was probably one of the most awkward hours Bard had ever had the displeasure of enduring. When they finally arrived, Bard was already on the verge of strangling the man.

The displeasure only grew as they entered the building and Alfrid turned on Thranduil.

"You have to stay here," he said.

"I'm with him," Thranduil said, nodding at Bard.

"Doesn't matter!"

"Now wait a second—" Bard began, but was interrupted by Alfrid.

"No, he can't come with us!"

"But he's my—"

"No exceptions! Thranduil will simply have to go that way with the rest of the guards, special guests _only_ beyond this point!" Alfrid sneered. Bard sighed, and exchanged a look with Thranduil.

"I guess I'll see you later, then?"

"I suppose…" Thranduil said, every line of his body radiating tension and unease.

Bard followed Alfrid away, down halls lined with thick velvets and gold inlays. He had become so accustomed to Thranduil being always a half step behind him that his absence now left him feeling bare, and Bard fiddled with one of the straps on his clothes to distract himself as they walked down corridor after corridor.

Alfrid eventually came to a halt and opened a large set of double-doors, then motioned Bard through. Inside was a table long enough to fit at least a hundred, decked out with enough food to easily feed at least twice that, and seated at one end was a slightly bald man with a small beard that tried but failed to cover his large second chin.

"Master, I present to you Bard Abrasax—" Bard almost interrupted to clarify that no, that wasn't _actually_ his name, but in the end thought better of it, "—the reincarnation of Girion Abrasax. Your Majesty Bard, I present to you the Master of Esgaroth."

"Uh, hi," Bard said after a few seconds.

"Hello," the Master replied. "Please, sit yourself down."

Alfrid pulled out the chair to the Master's right, and Bard sat down. The Master waved a hand at Alfrid. "You're dismissed," he said, and Alfrid bowed low and backed out of the room. "Now," the Master said, fixing beady eyes on Bard. "I believe you say 'bon appétit' on Terra, do you not?"

"Um. Sure. In some places, I guess," Bard replied, but the Master was already bringing food onto his plate. After a few seconds, Bard shrugged and did the same.

The dinner itself was at least as awkward, if not more awkward than, the trip there. The Master had scarfed down food for a good ten minutes without pause, while Bard had alternated between being horrified at his table manners and also quite pleasantly surprised by the food, which was like nothing he'd ever eaten—not even Bilbo had had such a wide selection—but nonetheless delicious. Bard had half a mind to seek the cook out himself and thank them, because something told him the Master wasn't going to.

Of course, once the Master had finished eating, he had begun _talking._ And that was almost worse, because he appeared content to carry on conversation quite by himself, never leaving enough time for Bard to answer. Additionally, the more he'd spoken, the more his voice had begun to rankle Bard, and it certainly didn't help that the Master was speaking a few decibels above what could have been considered polite.

So, yes. _Awkward._

After an indeterminate amount of time, during which Bard had taken to examining the filigree on the edge of the tablecloth in hopes of preserving his sanity, the Master clapped sharply twice. Bard jumped in his seat and let the tablecloth fall, and servants began to stream in from several hitherto-hidden doors.

"Now. I have something that I must show you," the Master said as the servants began clearing the table—Bard was appalled at the sheer amount of food that had gone uneaten—really, who set a table for a hundred when only two people were having their meal?—and he sincerely hoped that it was put to good use elsewhere.

"Okay," Bard replied, following the Master's example as he stood up and left the room. The Master talked the entire time, but much like he had at dinner, Bard zoned him out, taking note of his surroundings instead. The hallways were much the same as the ones he'd followed Alfrid through, but a few corners later they emerged into a large room, one wall which was glass and overlooking a rather pretty nebula in the distance, and the other which was curtained off (Bard was seriously starting to think that space-dwelling people must have a thing for hallways that led to big open rooms with skylights. Spacelights? Everywhere, with the exception of Dale, had them).

The Master led Bard to the curtained wall, their footsteps echoing only slightly. Bard thought he saw a guard standing at the opening of the hallway opposite them, but given the distance and the way the light dimmed off a bit on that side, he couldn't be sure.

"And all of these," the Master said, dramatically throwing open the pair of heavy red curtains (the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that one of the curtains got caught on a potted plant that was sitting off to the side as decoration) to reveal boxes upon boxes, all of which were glowing light blue. Bard narrowed his eyes, and his suspicions were confirmed when the Master walked over to one of the boxes and pulled out thin cylinder. "Are human lives," he pronounced dramatically.

"Oh my God," Bard said, trying his hardest to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Really, at least Galadriel had had some semblance of… of _refinement_ , when she'd told him.

"Yes…" the Master said, placing the cylinder back into the box. Bard supposed he was trying his best to look saddened, but it was ruined by the greedy look in his eye. "And Smaug wishes to harvest the Earth, even while your own counterparts still reside there. The only way to stop this, dearest Bard, is through marriage with me."

Bard held up a hand. "I'm gonna stop you right there, actually," he said. "Firstly, you're hilarious, really—wouldn't that be like marrying your own father? _Really creepy_. And secondly, I have control of Earth now," Bard held up his arm, baring his wrist to the Master even though the tattoo was invisible, "and there's going to be no more _harvestings_ or anything like that, and if Smaug tries, then I won't hesitate to… well, rest assured I _do_ have my own military forces, and they are to be _feared._ " Bard thought of Bilbo, happily feeding Thorin bites of shortcake while on the bridge. _Fearsome force, yes, exactly._

The Master opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking for all the world like a fish out of water. "I—well. But, wait just a minute now, if you were to _die_ , then—"

"Well," Bard said, crossing his arms and staring down his nose at the Master. "I'll just have to make sure I _won't_ die, now won't I? And don't you fret, my assets are all lined up just in case." Bard thought somewhat guiltily of Sigrid's proclamation of joining Starfleet along with Bain. If he died, everything would pass to her, as his eldest heir, he'd made sure of that with Gandalf… but Legolas would take care of them, right? And they were doing fine with Gimli. Rather seemed to be enjoying themselves, actually. And Thranduil and Tauriel would definitely help…

"Speaking of," Bard added. "Where's Thranduil?"

The Master seemed more confused than taken aback, now. "We weren't—well in any case, he left, said he had important errands to run and… all… that…" The Master trailed off, his eyes focusing somewhere over Bard's shoulder. Bard turned around.

There, against the large glass that separated them from space, was a figure that was unmistakably Thranduil. Even with the new outfit—a spacesuit, Bard realized belatedly—and his hair held in by a helmet, that scathing glare was unmistakable. Thranduil was also making several gestures at the Master, none of which Bard could interpret but all of which appeared less than friendly.

For a second, Thranduil focused on Bard and waved. Bard waved back. Then Thranduil made one last gesture (this one, Bard _was_ able to decipher—double middle fingers pressed flat against the glass, not too hard) before kicking his boots together and floating off. Bard hoped he was looking for an entrance.

"Right then," Bard said after a few seconds, turning back to the Master, who'd blanched. "You were saying?"

The Master appeared to stutter for a few seconds, then he narrowed his eyes and smiled shrewdly. "You know he's the reason you're in this mess, correct?"

Bard paused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's simple, really—I hired him to bring you to me."

"You hired him?"

"Yes."

"But he hates you."

The Master shrugged. "Many do. Comes with the power and fame. But I alone can reinstate Thranduil into the Legion. Lycanthans… truly sad, what happens to them when they don't have packs of their own, you see," the Master said with a voice that made Bard's stomach roil.

"So what you're saying is that you're bribing him."

"No, I _hired_ him, there's a difference."

"So all this is _your_ fault, anyways. Because without you in the picture, he never would have found it necessary to come after me."

"What? No! I—" The Master didn't get much farther, because just then Bard punched him in his thick, fatty jowls. The Master stumbled back, gasping for air, and Bard looked around, eyes settling on the potted plant in the corner. He darted forward, picking it up. Just as the Master recovered enough to shout for his guards, Bard brought the potted plant down heavily on his head.

The pot broke, and the Master crumpled to the ground. For a second Bard simply stood over him, breathing heavily and trying to urge the shaking in his hands to stop. But then he heard footsteps coming down the hallway, accompanied by worried shouting, and he began running the other way.

He didn't really know where the exit was, but surely one of these hallways would lead somewhere… and Thranduil was around, and Thranduil had mentioned before being able to track his scent, right? So Thranduil would find him, as long as he didn't managed to get caught first—

Bard turned a corner, almost tripping when he saw who else was in the new corridor. On the other end, incredibly menacing-looking, was a giant lizard holding a gun.

"Shit, shit, _nope_ ," Bard said, scrambling to get himself away. The lizard looked at him, and lifted the gun. Next thing Bard knew, his ears hurt from the bang of the gun, and there was a dart sticking out of his thigh. Bard blinked, his vision swirling in a sadly familiar way.

 _Oh bloody hell, not again_ …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by Nana, [HERE](http://angstyourwayin.tumblr.com/post/117309065254/art-piece-for-piyo-13s-fic-orion-ascendant-part) (seriously though isn't it amazing I'm going to cry)


	5. v. in which Bard slays a dragon and Thranduil finds a pack

Bard woke up, this time not on a gurney but rather on a highly uncomfortable slab of stone that reminded him _incredibly_ uncomfortably of an altar. He sat up, bringing his hands to his head, which was pounding again. He waited a bit for the feeling to subside, then looked around. Wherever he was, it definitely wasn't Lothlórien. A large geodesic dome swept up over him, the floor tiled with what looked like dark marble and the windows everywhere showed only masses of swirling orange clouds.

And in the middle of it all, outlined dark against the orange background, was what was unmistakably a throne. Sitting on the throne was a man dressed in shimmering black, and standing at his side were two huge lizards. Bard recognized the one on the right.

"So kind of you to join us, _father dearest,_ " the man on the throne said, his voice soft and sibilant but nonetheless carrying across the empty space between them.

Bard narrowed his eyes, swinging his feet off the slab he was sitting on and shakily standing up. "You're Smaug, then?" he asked. It only figured; the other two Abrasax siblings had already spoken to him anyways, and besides, _no one_ called him 'father'. Or would think to, even.

"Yes," Smaug said, grinning. It reminded Bard of a crocodile's smile.

Bard looked around again. "Where am I?"

"A planet you are familiar with. Jupiter, I believe you call it. This is my palace and my refinery, here at the heart of the storm." Smaug gestured broadly, and Bard noted that long flaps of fabric connected to rings on his fingers made it look like he had wings.

"Right, okay. And what am I doing here, again? By which I mean why can't you guys just _ask_ instead of tranquilizing me?"

Smaug stood up abruptly, walking around the lizards and his throne and coming to stand by the window, very Great Gatsby-like. "You are here to sign Terra and the rest of your holdings over to me," Smaug said, practically hissing, and still staring out into the clouds.

Bard crossed his arms. "No I won't. You'll just kill everyone."

"My, my, stubborn now, are we?" Smaug said, smiling coldly at Bard. With a grandiose motion and much swirling of his cape-wings, he returned to his throne. "No, you will sign them over. I wish to have all the production for myself."

"Oh my _God_ ," Bard said, rolling his eyes. "This story again."

That, at least, seemed to give Smaug pause. "What do you mean, 'this story again'?" he asked, the roughest edges of sibilance gone from his voice in his confusion.

"I mean literally both of your siblings have already tried to convince me to do one thing or another about my holdings! And, I'll have you know, I not only proposed a _much_ better business plan to the one of them, but I also knocked the other one out with a potted plant."

"…that was Bob, wasn't it."

"Yup."

Smaug sighed. "He always _was_ an imbecile."

"No kidding?"

"Mm. But that's not the point, I'm here to take everything you hold dear and I will shOW YOU HOW," Smaug said, his voice abruptly switching from a whisper to a yell that echoed off the walls and pillars. "Azog," he said, glancing at the lizard on the right.

The lizard blinked slowly and then reached behind itself (and Bard noted with a sense of detachment that it was wearing _clothes_ ) and pulled out what appeared to be a remote control. It pressed a button, and the floor off to its left opened, two large panels dropping down and sliding under their counterparts. Then Bard heard a mechanical cranking, and a pole began to rise out of the gap. And then a metal ring with chains threaded through it, and then hands, and then—

"Thranduil!" Bard shouted, stepped forward. Thranduil was on his knees, shirt gone, and blindfolded.  At Bard's shout, his head jerked up. Bard noticed that patches of his hair were colored red, as if with blood.

"I don't think you want to move any closer," Smaug sing-songed. Bard came to a halt as the lizard stepped forward onto the platform, a long knife flickering into its hand, and pressed the tip against Thranduil's stomach. The lizard grinned horribly, and Bard whirled on Smaug, feeling the anger bubble in chest and closing his throat.

"You—you _sick_ —"

"Yes, yes, I've heard all of those before," Smaug said with a wave. "Now, listen carefully, because I will only make this proposition once." Smaug stood, and glided over to Bard, procuring a small holographic cube from somewhere. Smaug twirled it, and a circle lit up on one of its faces. He held his wrist over the circle, and a red tattoo began to glow as the cube scanned it.

Bard's eyes widened, Radagast's words from earlier echoing in his mind— _binding legal contracts._

"Now then," Smaug continued. "This here is a contract. It states, in summary, that you, Bard Abrasax, reincarnation of Girion Abrasax, will turn over all your holdings to me, to do with as I wish. In exchange, I will refrain from killing your little boy toy over there."

Bard glanced desperately at Thranduil, who had angled his head towards Bard and appeared to be muttering something, his lips moving slowly. "He's not my boy toy," Bard said helplessly, looking back at Smaug. Smaug raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? My apologies then. Azog!" he barked the last word out, and the lizard standing next to Thranduil—Azog, presumably—smiled even wider. It dragged the tip of the knife along Thranduil's stomach, leaving a thin red line that began to gather drops, before raising the knife above its head.

"No!" Bard yelled, taking another step over. Azog stopped, glancing at Smaug, who shook his head. Thranduil was still mouthing something—a prayer? Bard didn't even know if they had gods. Unless…

"Well then?" Smaug asked. Bard looked at the cube, then up at Thranduil. He rubbed his wrist, trying to look like he was weighing the options as he concentrated on trying to read Thranduil's lips. It took him a few seconds, but finally he pieced it together. _The Black Arrow!_

"I…" Bard said, staring at the cube, held in Smaug's outstretched palm. He, Bard Bargeman from Chicago, could _kill_ someone. But if he didn't, then not only Thranduil but also all of Earth would die—of that he had no doubt, Smaug would find _some_ way—but, could Bard actually _kill_ someone?

Then a stray thought crossed his mind— _Tilda has a field trip in a few days. And she's looking so forward to it. I can't let Earth get destroyed, or harvested, or whatever Smaug wants with it._ Bard could have laughed. Instead, he looked Smaug straight in his red-gold eyes.

"Alright, fine," Bard said, and Smaug bared his teeth in what was probably trying to be a smile. "But first—" In one motion, Bard pulled out the Black Arrow from where it was nestled under his bracer, pressed the button to deploy it, and pulled the trigger.

The bolt flew three short feet , burying itself to the fletching into Smaug's chest. The impact caused Smaug to stumble backwards, dropping the cube onto the ground, where it shattered.

Smaug looked stunned. Then he coughed blood once, twice, and collapsed to the ground. Bard stared, horrified, as Smaug's eyes glazed over.

"Bard! The lizards!"

Bard started at the shout, turning to see Azog and the other lizard charging at him. He gulped down his revulsion, and quickly brought the Black Arrow up again, firing twice in quick succession, hoping that Thranduil's words about always hitting his mark were accurate.

They were.

The lizards dropped to the ground, the thumps of their bodies echoing around the room.

For a moment, there was complete silence, then Thranduil moved. "Bard, are you all right? I can't smell too well, they drugged me…"

Bard dropped the Black Arrow—or what was left of it, anyways—and rushed over to Thranduil, hurriedly pulling off the blindfold.

"You're alive," Bard said, staring for a few seconds.

"As are you," Thranduil replied.

Before Bard could think of a reply, there was a resounding cracking noise, and then half the glass roof gave out, two small spaceships zooming down and barely stopping before their pilots jumped out.

"WHERE CAN WE HEL—oh," Tauriel said, lowering her phaser. She walked over to one of the lizards, nudging it with a foot. "Looks like you got that taken care of."

"Sorry it took us so long," Kíli said, walking up next to her, his phaser already holstered. "Tracking you was difficult, and then we had to convince Fíli to let Tauriel use his fighter, 'cause she's the only one who's ever broken through a warhammer defensive position without an entire armada before…"

Tauriel laid a hand on Kíli's shoulder, looking down at him with extreme tenderness. "Well, now there's two of us." Kíli smiled widely at that, gazing at Tauriel with awe.

"Yeah."

"Ugh," Thranduil said, rolling his eyes, but Bard noticed the corner of his mouth was upturned, despite everything. Then Tauriel kissed Kíli, and Thranduil mock-gagged. "Alright, but will _someone_ _please_ get me out of here?!" He said, moving his arms just enough that the metal ring clinked against the pole.

"Oh, right!" Tauriel started, then pulled out one of her daggers—once again from nowhere, Bard had no idea how she did it—and very carefully cut through Thranduil's manacles. Bard _really_ didn't want to think of the cutting power of those knives at the moment, so he focused on Thranduil, helping him to his feet (somehow, he had managed to retain his boots) and walking around him, paying careful attention to all the cuts and bruises he was sporting.

"Dear God, what did they do to you," Bard muttered, fingers hovering over Thranduil's back.

Thranduil shrugged. "I've seen worse."

"By the way," Kíli said, "we might want to get moving, Tauriel and I may or may not have opened a hole in the atmospheric regulator in our haste to get here and it's best if we skedaddle before the entire environment comes crashing down on us."

"Right," Bard said, then walked back around so he was facing Thranduil. "By the way, I just want you to know that the Master told me some things about you and I really think we should have a serious conversation about that. And—dear God you're still bleeding."

"I am… I'm sorry, your Majesty," Thranduil said, bringing up a hand to hide the small smear of blood as well as tilting his head down, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

"It's Bard," Bard said. Thranduil looked up, his eyes meeting Bard's and searching them.

"Bard."

Completely on impulse, Bard cupped Thranduil's cheeks in his hands and brought him down, kissing him full on the lips. Kíli (or Tauriel? Bard wasn't entirely sure) wolf-whistled. Bard broke away, staring at Thranduil a few seconds as he felt his cheeks slowly beginning to flush. Thranduil was gazing at him with the same look Kíli had been giving Tauriel minutes earlier.

"We'll talk about everything back at the ship!" Bard then squeaked, turning on his heel and all but running away into one of the smaller fighter craft that Tauriel and Kíli had brought with them. Once inside, he buried his face in his hands, his blush warming his cheeks. "Oh God," he muttered. "Oh God."

* * *

 

Thranduil stood, frozen, barely three steps from where he'd been chained, staring at the small warship Bard had just disappeared into. Kíli was looking at him in amusement, and Tauriel was outright chuckling. Thranduil brought a hand to his lips, then slowly turned to look at the couple.

"What… what just happened?" he asked. "Am I hallucinating?"

Tauriel shook her head, still beaming brightly. "Nope!" she said. "I think _someone_ 's just found a pack, huh?"

Thranduil, for the umpteenth time, cursed the fact that his ears turned red so easily.

(He couldn't, however, in any form of good consciousness deny the claim.)


	6. vi. in which Tilda has a field trip and Bard has a boyfriend

All in all, things were going rather well. Sigrid still wanted to join Starfleet, Bain was still adamant about dropping out of 'normal kid school' in favor of 'space royalty school', but Tilda was excited that they had gotten back in time for her to still go on the planetarium visit, never mind that she'd spent the last week in a completely different galaxy, let alone planet.

"What are you most looking forward to?" Bard asked her, once they'd finished reading the bedtime story for that night.

Tilda thought for a moment. "The constellations! I want to learn all about them! Gimli even gave a map with all the stars from the planet where _he_ was born, and he circled all the ones that we can see too. He was really nice."

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, princess," Bard said, blowing a raspberry on Tilda's stomach. She giggled, thrashing around on her bed and yelling for Bard to stop. Eventually he did, ending with a kiss to her forehead.

"Will we ever go back?" she asked somberly, her delighted laughter fading. Bard shifted, sitting up on her bed. She looked at him with hopeful eyes, and Bard ruffled her hair. 

"Of course we will. We promised Legolas and Gimli that we would, didn't we?"

Tilda seemed very relieved. "Good! I'm excited for that too, then. I hope Tauriel drives, though. Kíli told me Tauriel does the best loop-de-loops!"

Bard grimaced. "How wonderful."

"But that's okay if you get carsick! I'll make sure you have enough water to drink."

"Why thank you." Bard smiled, then leaned down to give her another kiss on her forehead. "Alright, now it's time for you to go to sleep, you've got an exciting day tomorrow."

"Goodnight, da," Tilda said, burrowing herself deeper into the blankets.

"Goodnight." Bard stood and left, hitting the lights on his way out. Then he went over to Bain's room, peeking inside. Bain was playing a video game on the computer, headphones on, and so Bard left him alone.

Sigrid, when he knocked, told him to come in.

"How's everything going in here?" Bard asked, slowly raising an eyebrow at the sight. Sigrid was sitting in the middle of her bed, papers and books strewn and laying open all around her, and she held a pen in her mouth and a notebook open on her lap.

"Fine as it can be," she said, teeth clenched around the pen. "You know, missing a week's worth of material in seven subjects, half of which are AP."

"I'm sorry, love."

Sigrid looked up from her notebook, taking the pen from her mouth and shaking her head. "S'not your fault, not really. Besides, this just means that I have a few more career options, now," she said with a smirk. "Although, I will admit, I'm not entirely too sure how far French will get me in space, but."

Bard snorted. "I doubt Gimli would let you on or out of Aglarond without giving you another Babel Fish, or whatever it was they called it, anyways."

"I've actually been wondering about that… do you think there are still uncolonized planets out there? What do they do if they don't _have_ the fish? Or what if… I don't know, what if they don't have ear canals as we recognize them? Are they just… screwed over by everyone else around them speaking a different language?"

Bard laughed. "I am _definitely_ the wrong person to ask those questions to, Sig." She stuck out her tongue at him. "Anyways, try not to go to bed too late, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll try."

"Alright. If you need me, I'll be up on the roof."

"Don't get kidnapped again."

"I'll try."

Sigrid smiled. "Night, da."

"Goodnight."

Bard left, closing the door softly behind him as Sigrid got back to work. He made his way back up the apartment stairs, out onto the roof, and opened his beach chair. He sat down, looking out at the city for a bit before laying back, resting with his eyes closed for a few minutes.

Then he sighed and opened his eyes, looking up at the stars. He owned about half of them, now. He wondered what Adelaide would think of that, or even of Thranduil. He was sure she wouldn't mind—she had told him, once, that if ever she were to die, Bard had to move on. Originally he hadn't thought it possible, but now… well, things changed and stunningly handsome and surprisingly kind (seriously, Bard had _not_ been expecting Thranduil to melt like he had around Tilda) ex-soldier werewolves sometimes dropped into one's lives, it really couldn't be helped.

And all the children approved (Tilda had even begun calling Thranduil 'ada', after what Legolas called him), so that was a bonus.

Bard sighed again, thinking of his schedule in the next few days. It had taken a bit of verbal leaping-through-hoops-while-on-fire to explain to his boss why he'd mysteriously vanished for six days without so much as a call in, but in the end he'd still secured his job—not that he needed it anymore, but politics _really_ weren't for him, and neither was sitting idle. He also had to visit his space therapist—once the whole affair surround Smaug had died down a bit and Bard had had time to reflect, he'd decided he definitely wanted to see someone about it (the fact that he'd had recurring nightmares about it was also a major factor). Bilbo had been more than happy recommending him someone, a man called Beorn, about whom Bilbo had nothing but good things to say.

Speaking of the affair with Smaug, though… Bard began running back over the events in the three days following Smaug's death. Not only, he had been informed, had he completely upset the balance of the entire Abrasaxian sector of the universe, but he'd also manage to do so relatively unscathed. Physically, at least. The ensuing days had involved more politics than Bard could ever even have imagined, and he thought the mental strain had probably _very_ much scathed him.

First came the Khazâd—Bard hadn't originally given much thought to why Thorin had helped him and Thranduil before, but it quickly became clear, especially with the arrival of Thorin's sister, Dís, and his cousin, Dáin, that the Khazâd had actually had an agreement for trade and trade routes through Girion's land, and they were eager to reinstate that agreement, in exchange for providing a security detail for Bard and his children, in addition to the parts of the Legion that now belonged to Bard (Bard, of course, had no objections to that).

Then another meeting with Galadriel, which had ultimately resulted in the Lady agreeing with Bard to stop harvesting humans, and merely using the cylinders until the pre-existing stock ran out (Bob, upon finding out that Bard had been the one to bring down Smaug, was easily bullied into the same agreement).

After that, dealing with all of Smaug's former territories and peoples. Galadriel had requested one star system of the lot—it had been where she was born, and she would so like to take her husband there—and Bard had given it to her. Representatives from so many places that Bard lost track came streaming in to Aglarond, which had somehow become base of operations for his newfound empire (he made sure to double-check with Gimli if that was alright, but the Khazâd had just chuckled and said something to the effect of enjoying having someone else running the show).

Eventually, apparently having noticed Bard's increasing distress, Thranduil had left for a day, returning that evening with another lycanthan in tow. Elrond was sharp-witted yet kind, and Bard took an immediate liking to him. Thranduil assured him that Elrond—apparently an old friend from the Legion—was a mastermind when it came to administrative affairs and battle alike, and was also willing to help.

With Elrond at his side, the empire's affairs were organized surprisingly quickly, and Bard (having in the process of said organization realized that he in fact possessed enormous quantities of gold and another metal called mithril, which was apparently worth even more) offered to hire him on as permanent advisor-slash-de facto regent. Elrond had accepted, much to Bard's (and probably everyone else, to be frank—Bard had no idea what he'd been doing) relief.

Once the majority of the craziness was over, Bard finally took a breather, and decided to talk to Thranduil.  They talked for hours, first about Thranduil's involvement in the whole mess (he'd apologized profusely, and confessed that he hadn't known Bard was royalty until the incident with the bees) and what it meant that Thranduil had found a pack (he'd elaborated on his points there with many kisses, which worked completely in his favor). Then their conversation had veered off elsewhere, to the point that they (somehow) ended up discussing their favorite childhood forms of entertainment (Bard's was Bambi; Thranduil's was something that even with the fish in his ear Bard hadn't been able to make sense of) and what the future would mean, now that Bard was, as Tilda had begun to put it, a space princess.

In the end, they'd decided that Thranduil would live on Earth with Bard, at least until Bard's children finished school (Bard was adamant about that, regardless of how much his kids complained). Thranduil had seemed content with that, kissing Bard hungrily when Bard had mentioned needing to get a larger bed.

Now, Thranduil had gone to visit Legolas for the day—Legolas and Gimli were in the middle of planning an elaborate wedding, which Bard had offered to pay for in exchange for the temporary use of Aglarond until Elrond got something else built (when asked where, Bard had requested somewhere in the Orion constellation, which apparently was another of his holdings. If Elrond had been at all surprised, he hadn't said anything)—and should have been returning momentarily. Bard looked out at the sky, searching for the telltale glowing points that were Thranduil's boots. He spotted them, and waited.

"Hello, your Majesty," Thranduil said, smiling and coming to a soft landing atop the roof, taking Bard's hand in his own and bringing it to his mouth for a kiss.

"Mm, say that again," Bard said, moving closer and sliding his hands up Thranduil's sides, feeling the muscle underneath the leather. Thranduil smiled more brightly, leaning down and kissing Bard on the lips, slow and passionate and with just a little bit of tongue.

"Of course, your Majesty."

"I like how it sounds when you say it," Bard said as they pressed their foreheads together. Thranduil tipped forward, kissing Bard again, and again, eventually placing a hand first on his heart, then moving it to press over Bard's.

Bard could feel the heat of Thranduil's palm through his shirt, and he leaned into the touch, Thranduil easily supporting him.

"But you know what I like even more."

"What would that be, your Majesty?" Thranduil said, sliding his other hand around behind Bard and working his fingers under Bard's T-shirt.

"Guess."

Thranduil hummed, smirking, and then tilted his head down to capture Bard's lips in another searing kiss. Bard move his arms from Thranduil's hips to his back, pulling him close.

"You guessed correctly," Bard murmured when they broke apart, panting. Thranduil smiled all the way through their next kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then! That was fun :D Hope you enjoyed, let me know what you thought and all that ^^;;;;


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